


Bury My Bones Beneath the Crannog

by sometimesimeow



Series: Tales of Snow and Madness [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A gratuitous amount of sex, Alpha Ned, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Sex, Bittersweet Ending, Boypussy, Breastfeeding, Child Death, Face-Fucking, Fingering, H plus N equals J, Intersex, Intersex Omegas, Jon is Howland and Ned's kid, Long One Shot, M/M, Male Lactation, Mpreg, Omega Howland, One Shot, Oral Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Sex, Rape Kink, Rape/Non-con Elements, Robert's Rebellion, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Tragedy, Vaginal Sex, War, but an erotic tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 21:23:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7480632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sometimesimeow/pseuds/sometimesimeow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I stole nothing from you. Your betrothed took away my future when he died and left your husband the heir of Winterfell. Your father took away my name when he demanded Ned honor his father’s promise to make you Lady Stark. But you? You took away my heart. Is it not fair that I rip apart yours?”</p><p>In another life, it would not matter that Ned was not Catelyn’s original choice. Catelyn would win Ned Stark’s heart, and rule the North alongside him as equals. He would heed her advice, and raise their five children with love and honor. In this life, where men and women are born either alphas or omegas, Ned Stark never forgets his first love.</p><p>Part One of the Tales of Snow and Madness Series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bury My Bones Beneath the Crannog

The Neck was a crypt for foliage and fauna, and was made of swamps instead of fields and bogs instead of roads; the flowers were the size of cattle and the lizard lions were neighbors and the pythons were pets. The trees were drowning in the sludge but did not sink, for the fungi in their veins kept them upright. The channels drifted into one another and were ever-changing as the crannogs that float on them. Had Ned not carry their lord in his arms, he would have fallen into the nearest pit of quicksand and become a feast for the Neck’s beastly inhabitants.

Howland dipped his fingers into a nearby swamp and allowed the thick water to coat his fingers while he drew the coolness into his body. Ned wanted to warn him against it; he feared the creatures resting beneath the waters. But he held his tongue for he remembered that he was a foreigner in these parts.

“Why do you look at the lands, but ignore their lord? Should you not give attention to your newly defiled wife?” Howland suggested, though there was no bite in his words. He removed himself from his resting position and maneuver his small frame into Ned’s arms He pressed their lips together. He was naked, and they were in plain sight. Only the shade of the weirwood tree shielded them. Ned had attempted to cover him with his fur cloak, but Howland refused. He claimed that his body shall be covered by kisses and teeth marks and the bruises of his lord’s fingertips. Ned complied with the request earlier and kissed him again now. His mouth tasted just as sweet.

Ned was reluctant to bed him so soon. But near the end of the Tourney of Harrenhal and the crowning of his sister—a travesty at its lightest and a tragedy in the making—Howland succumbed to unforeseen illness. He needed to go home. The rest of the Starks believed it to be a heat, but Howland denied the notion. His last heat passed weeks ago. He borrowed Benjen’s horse and was already planning to leave in the dead of night when Ned stopped him and demanded a place by his side. Howland, who prepared a protest, fainted into Ned’s arms and allowed the older boy to ride with him towards the Neck. 

Upon their arrival, Howland unmounted his horse and abandoned it at the kingsroad. He promised Ned that they will be safe, but he needed to rest. Ned believed Howland planned to take him to the Greywater Watch but found that he was being led into the heart of the swamp and amidst the fog. He heard the hisses of rattlesnakes and the whispers of bells and wondered where they were headed. Weary of his surroundings, Ned stopped.

“Do you not trust me?” Howland questioned. He leaned against Ned’s hard body, so large compared to his own. He was not as tall as his brother, but beside Howland, he was a giant. “Do you believe I wish you harm?” Howland said that if Ned wished to abandon him, he would ask the crannogmen to give him safe passing back on the kingsroad.

Ned felt foolish. He took Howland’s hand and asked for his guidance. Howland granted it and stripped him of his armor and threw at the road. “You will not need it. It will only weigh you down.” He led him to the weirwood tree. When asked why they were here, Howland stripped until he was entirely nude.

“What are you doing?” Ned asked.

Howland smiled and dropped his shirt. “I’m seducing you.” When he finished, he asked Ned if he found him beautiful.

Ned, taken back, could not lie. “You are the most beautiful being I have laid my eyes on,” he stuttered out. More than Ashara Dayne, who he danced with after great prodding from Brandon, or Catelyn Stark, who was promised to his brother. At the banquet, he could not even glance at Cersei Lannister, the most beautiful woman in the kingdom, for he was sitting right across from Howland, and could not bear to tear his eyes away.

The sight of crannogmen were rare, even within the Neck. Outside, they were a complete mystery. Howland was one of the few who traveled, and his appearance caught more than a few wandering eyes. He was not comely in the way ladies are with their long hair and rosy lips, but he was eye-catching. His hair was a mess of tangled dark blond curls, and he was small—smaller than an omega female but not yet the size of a dwarf. His eyes were big and green and reminded Ned of lily pads. When Lyanna brought him before them, those eyes stared straight into Ned and asked for his company. The night before the tourney, Howland snuck into his tent. Ned ordered him away, for it was improper for an omega lord to trespass the rooms of an alpha. Howland did not listen and demanded that they talk until he slept. Ned could not refuse him, and that night, he listened to Howland’s dreams and heard his prayer, and acted in his stead.

Howland smiled at the declaration. He reached up to Ned and kissed him like he did the night of the tourney when Ned wore that armor and helmet and road off to take vengeance against those cruel boys who attempted to turn their lusts on Howland. “I would marry you today, in front of the weirwood tree, in the eyes of the Old Gods,” he swore.

Ned was young, and knew no greater love than the kind Howland bore him. So he did not wait for Lord Reed’s approval, nor did he receive permission from his own father. Instead, Ned took off his shirt to accommodate the tropical heat of the swamp. Howland moaned at the sight of his muscles, bigger than any man he had ever seen in the Neck, and moaned louder when Ned knelt down and kissed him on his cunt. Howland’s hands fisted his hair. “Ned…” he moaned.

Ned ate like a starving man. He parted Howland’s folds and probed his tongue deep inside, and was flooded by Howland’s thick cream pouring out of his cunt and ass. His cock was hard. Ned swirled his tongue inside and licked any surface he could until Howland came. His juices soak Ned’s face. He wanted to faint.  Instead of stopping, Ned moved upwards to suck on his clit.

“Ned!” Howland screamed. “Ned, you must stop! I…” Howland’s protest died on his lips. Ned took his tiny cock into his mouth and sucked hard and swallowed. Howland thrusted into his throat. He had never seen an alpha do that, not even for the fittest omegas.

When Ned finished, Howland came a second time. His legs gave out and he slouched into Ned’s arms and sat on his hard, unsated cock. He still wore his pants. Howland looked up and saw Ned’s lips, swollen as Howland’s pussy and chaffed by overuse.

Howland wanted to kiss him and get some sleep, but Ned was not done with him. He laid him on the muddy floors and made plans to worship his green wife. He undid his pants to let out his cock, already hard and hungry for Howland’s hole. He touched Howland’s body, as awed as a Northern child touching the face of a weirwood tree for the first time. He pressed his lips against the crannogman’s heart and listened to a heartbeat that mimicked the sound of a cat’s paws on snow.

“You’re so small…” he whispered reverently. His cock was pulsing. It needed to be let in. Ned pressed his hands against Howland’s cunt and cock, and allowed the heat to pulse against his palm. He could not believe it was so hot. He imagined it must be furnace when he was in heat.

Howland moaned; he lifted his hips up to welcome Ned into his tight, supple body. Ned complied by pushing his thick cock into Howland’s folds. He did it slowly, for even with his first inch, Howland was already stretched beyond reasonable measure. Howland’s lips fluttered around his cock and clung to him.  Ned went in further and had Howland biting his tongue to keep himself from screaming. When he was fully inside him, Ned almost came instantly. He heard Howland say something unrecognizable, inhuman, and he was awarded a gush of cream. It made it easy for Ned to move, and before long, Ned was fucking Howland into the land. Though hardly one to speak, Ned was swearing a storm. He wanted to own Howland. He wanted to make him his.

They continued until they both came numerous times, and Howland was properly debauched. Ned released himself and sunk into the space beside Howland. He wrapped his arms around the younger boy and held him there. Howland turned so that he would curl into Ned’s arms. While Ned accommodated him, he could not help but cringe at his own shame. The boy was beautiful and wanton, but Ned felt wicked and pleased for defiling him on his family’s lands. There were traces of blood on his cock. Howland was a virgin.

“Your father will not be happy about this.”

Howland laughed. “My father will be happy if I am happy. You could be a beggar and that would change nothing. I shall be the Lord of the Neck in due time.”

Lord Reed was a sick man, and it would not be long before Howland was expected to take his seat at the Greywater Watch. His mother, who Howland claimed to be alive but could not present herself to outsiders, could not rule in his stead. Ned questioned this statement, only to be met with a mysterious smile.

“If your father agrees to our union, I will keep no secrets from you. Know that the Neck carries more mysteries than the North or the South has ever seen,” Howland promised. “And you will be our lord one day.”

Ned does not doubt it. The mention of his father made Ned acknowledge the severity of his actions. They would have to leave soon, for their marriage had no witnesses, and father would want proof. The Neck owned no ravens to send to The Citadel. Howland denied this notion, for he claimed that half the Neck was watching them, and the unnamed gods already blessed their union. The notion was romantic but carried no place in the realm of rule and law.

“I have taken your maidenhood,” Ned declared.

Howland kissed him. He grinded onto Ned’s cock and allowed the alpha’s manhood to touch his lower lips. Howland wanted to feel him inside him again. He craved nothing more than to be taken over and over like some whore. “And I, you. Though, I believe my task was harder.”

Ned tried to resist, but Howland and his honeyed voice continued to seduce him.

“I was worried I could not receive you. You are so big. I thought you would split me in half.” Howland took Ned’s girth in his hand but could not wrap his fingers around it. His cock was twice the size of Howland’s cunt. “I could feel your cock in my womb, pushing a child into me. Would you give me a child, Ned? Would you give me several? Make my people forget that their lord was anything more than a broodmare for his husband? Would you tell your friends about how well you’ve taken my small cunt, and ruined me for other men?”

Ned growled and entered his lover. When they finished their third round, night had fallen on them. Howland asked Ned if his father would like him, or ask him to abandon his bog devil whore. Ned assured him that Lord Stark could not refuse them. The Reeds were a loyal house, and a powerful one in regards to warfare, despite the outside world’s condemnation of their methods. They were necessary to ensure the protection of the North. Eddard was the second son and an alpha. Brandon was alive and well and would inherit Winterfell. Ned was surely lucky to be wedded to a good Northern house instead of a meek third daughter of a Manderly or Glover.

He looked around again, and attempted to find beauty in this graveyard. He would try, for this was to be his home and the home of his children, and he wished for Howland to be happy. Howland smiled at the attempt. “It will grow on you. We are not made of gold and diamonds, but earth and water. I have no maesters, no masters of arms, and no servants.” Howland touched Ned’s chest. “I adore these lands regardless.”

“I hope our children will as well.”

Howland laughed. “I want you to. These are lands of survivors and of peace.”

The last comment caused Ned to raise an eyebrow. Howland laughed.

“You were told the Neck was the victim of an unfortunate war. Hundreds of people drowned because of the hammer of the waters, and the lands of the Neck turned to sewage—bogs and swamps thought to be unlivable. But that’s not all it is, is it? The devastation led to thousands of years of peace. We grew close to those who sing songs of earth and they trusted us with the language and their love. There’s no place more northern than the Neck, except for what lies beyond the wall. There is no place with more soul.”

Ned could not help but smile. And though small, it made Howland’s heart leap with joy. He suggested they stay here for a while, just for a few days, before leaving for their journey. He could meet his father, and they shall prepare a feast of crayfish and frogs and snails.

“That sounds appetizing.”

“It is if you know how to cook it.”

Ned held onto Howland and agreed. “I can never deny you anything.” They would rest for an hour more, and then made their way to Greywater Watch where they would spend three nights. Their horses were there, and he dared not question Howland. Ned met Lord Reed briefly. The man smiled at Ned, tenderly kissed his son’s hand and asked for Shade. Howland led Ned out of the room and asked every crannogman tending to Lord Reed to leave to make way for ‘Shade.’ Ned must have been dreaming, but he swore he saw the shadow of a child enter the room. On the way to Howland’s bedroom, Ned met Jyana, Howland’s little sister and a lovely omega who was the splitting image of her brother. She was young, but bright, and demanded to hear tales of the world outside of the Neck. Ned, despite what he heard of the Neck, enjoyed his time here. He saw Howland’s knowing smile and felt his gratitude every night. Finally, it was time to leave.

 Ned spent his journey developing excuses for his father: a bit of rain on the kingsroad, their horse became sick, they needed to stop for provisions. The Neck had no ravens. He hoped his father would not think anything rash while he was gone. Howland told him not to worry, to simply enjoy his time with him. As many times before, Ned was glad to be the second son. The one they never spoke about. He would marry for love, and not the finest of his few options as Brandon will.

***

 When he arrived at Winterfell, a week and some days already passed. Ned Stark did not expect a celebration, but certainly not the ghost town he arrived at. When they stepped inside Winterfell, Howland clutched onto Ned’s sleeve and almost fell into his arms. Ned asked if Howland was ill, and he whispered ‘No.’ He told Ned he felt hot; he saw fire and dead bodies and crisp bones and a mountain of men for giants to climb on. Ned tried to calm him but Howland was shaking. As Ned carried him inside, Benjen came to interrupt him. He frowned at the condition of Howland and helped to carry the crannogman inside.

When they put him to rest, Ned asked Benjen where the others were. “Where is Lyanna? Where is Brandon, and father? Where are our men?”

Benjen frowned. His face was distressingly dismal.

“They are at King’s Landing, Ned. Lyanna has been kidnapped. Rhaegar Targaryen took her the last night of tourney.”

Howland woke up that instant. He screamed as Rickard Stark was being burned alive by the Mad King and Brandon choked himself on a leather rope. His body was hot, and there was a mark on his throat.

Ned received a raven shortly after. It was a demand to ride South to meet with Lord Arryn and Lord Baratheon. Howland asked him for a pen to write a letter to his sister. He would go south with Ned and shelter him from the burden that held down his shoulders.

Benjen begged to come.

“She is my sister,” Benjen protested. “It was my fault she was taken. I should have protected her.” There was something he was not telling them, but Benjen, perhaps in shame or honor, refused to say anything more.

Ned refused. “There must always be a Stark at Winterfell. You have to stay.”

Howland comforted his friend. He grasped his face and told him that Winterfell is the stronghold of the North, and the North needed a leader during these harsh times. A war is coming, but that did not mean all matters stopped to accommodate them. “War means loss of rations and people at the mercy of their fields. It means a loss of hands to work and orphans losing their fathers. You must man the North.”

“And what of the Neck?” Benjen asked petulantly. “Should you not protect your own people?”

“My sister holds the Neck in my father’s stead,” Howland answered. Benjen was scared and spoke in fear. “She knows her duty.”

Ned left the room to prepare his men. When he was gone, Benjen confessed to Howland that he was scared. He did not want to lose another brother.

Howland promised Benjen he would bring Ned home safely. “Be strong. These months will not be kind to any of us.”

“What of Lyanna?” Benjen asked. The young wolf was already taller than him by several inches, despite being a good deal younger. Howland remembered his dreams of a bed filled with blood and a woman’s final wishes. He made no promises, and instead kissed Benjen’s forehead and told him to pray for them all.

***

They rode off to the Riverlands, where Lord Tully greeted them with civility and coolness. He barely glanced at Howland, for the southerners looked down on crannogmen more than the northerners do.  Robert Baratheon was waiting their presence and refused to give his friend rest until they developed a plan for warfare. At the wartime council, his rage shook the table. He wanted vengeance. He wanted Lyanna. Howland never cared for Robert and he knew that Lyanna did not as well. But he was Ned’s friend, and his misery could make a faceless man sympathetic. Howland was silent during their plots and schemes. He watched with curiosity as they debated whether they should attempt a Lannister allegiance, as Tywin already departed the capital and his son was a part of the king’s guard. He was disinterested when they feared for the Stormlands. Howland spoke only when the North’s security was question.

“The crannogmen will not allow any invaders to enter the North. Our people will be safe.” 

One of the Vale lords scoffed. “How strong can a group of frog eaters be?”

 “No man without dragons has ever reached the North without the blessing of my family. And while you may look down on our methods, understand that it is our arrows and our poisons and our tactics that has kept the North free from invaders since the time of Kings of Winter.” Howland did not boast. While his small stature would have caused the man to laugh in other circumstances, his confidence kept him humble. “What can you say of your men?”  
The man could not respond.

Howland continued. “The Southerners know that an assault on the North is only manageable by passing the Neck. They know it is death to enter my home.”

“What if they do not?” Robert asked.

“Then they will learn.”

Jon Arryn looked at his two foster sons and nodded. “That is good to hear. It is one less problem to worry about.”

They went on to discuss tactics. Stannis Baratheon will defend the Storm’s End, and the riverlands will do their best to provide men and provisions. They divided their soldiers into battles and discussed strategy for the long haul. Their men will go into battle, they will die, and they were plenty of battles to come and die for. When they were finished, Lord Tully made an announcement.

“Lord Stark?”

“I’m not…” The words died on Ned’s lips. He turned to Robert, who, even in the heat of his fury, was sympathetic to his loss. Ned wondered if this was how Robert felt when the news of his parents’ tragic shipwreck occurred. Ned felt out of place. His father and brother were dead, and he was given no time to mourn.  Ned looked around to the rest of the men in the room. They were staring at him: Lord of Winterfell, the Warden of the North. Howland reached out and placed his hand on his lover’s shoulder to comfort him.

Ned cleared his throat. “Yes, Lord Tully?”

“I know you are still mourning this terrible loss, but I fear you are not alone in your suffering. If you remembered, your brother Brandon was promised to my eldest daughter, Catelyn Tully.”

Ned did remember. “My apologies. Is she here? I will express my deepest condolences to her.”

Jon Arryn caught Howland’s eye. Howland turned to Robert, who looked away. His face was expressionless. But he knew something. They all knew something. Howland felt his throat constrict.

No, Howland could not bear it. “Ned—”

“You could do more than that.”

Ned frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“My daughter was promised Lord Stark. I was promised a grandchild who would become the Lord of Winterfell. I intend to collect on that promise.”

“What are you asking?”

“There is a war coming. We need to cement our alliances.”

Howland choked on his laughter. He could not believe the joke being played on him. Were the Southern gods real? Was there a war in the heavens between his Gods and theirs, and was he to be a victim of their cruelty? “Lord Tully, you must speak more clearly to my lord. I’m afraid an honorable man cannot see through your deceit.”

Lord Tully glared at the lowly crannogman. He would have demanded punishment, but he could see that Howland was precious to the new Lord Stark, and he needed him compliant.

“You are to honor your father’s promise. The preparations for the wedding are already in order. You will marry my daughter in your brother’s stead.” 

“I…” Ned looked to Howland, and then back at Lord Tully. “I am already promised to another. Surely, there is another way. I…I have a younger brother.” Benjen would never forgive him.

“Your brother will not be the Lord of Winterfell. You are.”

“We are married,” Howland announced, much to the surprise of the room.

Lord Tully frowned. “Your father did not mention your status when we last spoke.”

Ned sighed. “We married in the Neck—”

“The Neck? Where there are no ravens or maesters to marry you? Does The Citadel know? Did you perform the necessary documents? Did you sign your sigils?”

Howland glared. He was mocking them. “We were married by the Old Gods. We said our vows in front of a heart tree and have consummated.”

House Tully received all the information he needed. “That is not a valid marriage in the eyes of the law. Marry my daughter, or I shall find myself reluctant to march into battle with an oath breaker.”

The accusation rang hard in Ned’s ears. Lord Arryn and Robert were quick to announce their discontent and the tent became the place of disgruntlement and false allegations. Ned turned to Howland, and there’s something in his eyes Howland has never seen before. Permission? Forgiveness? Howland would not stand for it. He left the tent and ran towards the woods. He could not bear to hear Ned’s decision.

When night finally came, Ned signed his name and sigil onto a marriage contract and agreed to Lord Tully’s terms. He would meet his betrothed tomorrow, on his wedding day. The men would ride out on the following morning.

Robert, for he was a true friend in spite of his bloodthirst, thanked him. “I know what you are sacrificing.” Robert would not do the same for him, and for that, the Baratheon was sorry. “I wish you well with your bride,” Robert told him.  His second bride, his mind insisted. For his wife was still alive and well, and abandoned by their doing. Jon, the tactician, asked if this will affect the Neck’s loyalty to the North. Ned said it would not. The Reeds are loyal, even when the Starks are not.

 Ned left to find Howland and searched the woods until darkness came. He finally caught sight of a tree carved with the face of a crying man and barely dodged the bronze knife aimed at his throat. Another knife came at his side, and Ned escaped that by the skin of his teeth.

“I am so angry with you!”

A knife was thrown.  Ned threw himself on the floor. At least, he knew Howland did not want him dead. If he wanted to kill him, he would have used arrows. A figure threw himself onto Stark’s body and punched him in the face. The darkness was settling, and Ned could not see anything. He defended himself by throwing the figure off of him. He watched the body tumble to the side.

“Howland, we need to talk about this.”

Howland got up and ran out of sight. Ned sighed. That was not good.

“I do not wish to talk to you!”

Ned felt another tackle that landed him against the tree.

“Defend yourself, my honorable lord.”

Ned responded by throwing the body onto the floor.

“Howland, please. I had no choice.” Ned declared. Howland got up. Ned would not allow it. He held Howland in his hands. Howland scratched and struggle underneath him.

“How could you insult me like that? How could you leave me for some Southern whore and then look at me as if you are the victim?” Howland hit Ned’s jugular and had him kneeling and coughing. Howland tried to run away again, but Ned recovered. He wrestled Howland onto the ground and in the gentlest way he could muster, he forced the head onto the dirt.

“Howland, please understand. We are at war. I needed to ensure his alliance. I had to honor my family’s promise.”

“What of your promise to me?” Howland elbowed his lover in the ribs. Ned fell off him and Howland was able to gain the upper hand. He climbed on top of the Stark and held a knife to his throat. “What about our plans?”

Ned remained completely still. “I have dishonored you, and I wish to pay for it. But Howland, my sister is still alive. I need to save her. Please, for Lyanna, for the woman who was your good sister and friend, forgive me until the war is over, and I will accept any punishment you wish to give me.”

Howland pushed the knife into his throat. “And what if I asked you to die?”

“If that is you wish,” Ned answered. He meant it.

Howland frowned and dropped his knife on the side. “You are a fool, Stark.”

“I know,” Ned moved in a way that was able to maneuver Howland on his back. Howland eyes widened in surprise, and Ned found himself regretful that he will never wake up to those eyes again. “I love you. Do not doubt that. But this is not about love, this is about honor. This is about ensuring my sister comes back to Winterfell safely. I need his army.”

Howland frowned. He touched Ned’s face and pressed his lips against his. “I have made a foolish mistake falling for a good man.”

“Do you forgive me?” Ned winced at his own question. Was he so selfish of a man as to use Howland’s affections against him?

Howland does not answer. Instead, he kissed him and placed his hands on Ned’s trousers. Ned protested, but Howland silenced him. “Lord Tully would have you married soon. I assume he knows I intend to travel with you, and will not risk you breaking your promise.” Howland smiled sadly. “He does not know you.”

“Howland…” Ned warned. He was grateful, nonetheless, by the news that Howland wished to remain by his side in spite of his betrayal. Howland hushed him by sucking his mark onto Ned’s neck.

“I intend to remind Lord Tully and his daughter where your heart belongs. When it is time for your wedding night, I want her to see my love as visible as her Gods are not.” Ned could not deny him this. Howland turned around and encouraged Ned to explore his backside. Ned quickly removed the crannogman’s pants, and let the tip of his cock touch the dripping hole. It was so small, smaller than Howland’s cunt, and even in his shame, Ned was eager to experience the joys of Howland’s body. He entered Howland with little patience, and began pumping himself into Howland with the speed of a man in rut. Howland was moaning loud enough to alert their entire camp. Perhaps that was his intention. Ned paid no mind to his sounds, and kept going harder, and was fast enough that the sound of his balls slapping against Howland’s cheeks echoed in the woods. He wrapped his hand around Howland’s throat and pushed him upwards so that they could kiss. While his tongue was inside Howland’s mouth, Ned pulled out all the way and in a single stroke, entered Howland completely. Howland screamed into Ned’s mouth and came. Ned was not yet satisfied, and Howland could feel a knot form. Instead of asking for rest, Howland gave him permission to continue—anywhere he would like.

Howland and Ned returned to the camp late that night. Howland looked especially well fucked and sated, and while Ned was shameful to face Lord Tully after committing such a disgraceful act, he did not pull away when Howland leaned against his shoulder for support, nor did any of them take Lord Tully’s offer to show Howland to his room. “Omegas should not be left alone with alphas,” he sneered. “It would make them seem loose.”

“I am already loose,” Howland retorted, and his comment made many men chuckle. “And will continue to be throughout the duration of this war. You should be thanking me.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, my father used to tell me that alphas were encouraged to bed other partners, surely in order to provide a satisfactory experience for the wives they wed. I’m sure that the women you fucked before Lady Tully provided you with adequate tutelage. Surely she, like your daughter, was grateful for your knowledge.”

Lord Tully had no response.

Howland then asked to sleep outside in the tents. “I am not suited for lands that stay still, my lords. Excuse me.”

Lord Tully glared at the spiteful minx that seduced his son-in-law, and Ned was silent. He bared the glare Lord Tully sent his way and felt more pride at his partner than remorse for his actions. He felt worst for not having them.

***

That night, Catelyn Stark could not quench her feelings of doom. Tomorrow, she would be married to a man she had only met for a moment, and one with a face she could not remember. She heard nothing of Ned Stark, neither good things nor bad, and she wondered how he would take to her. She was but a girl of seventeen, and while she never hoped to be queen, she still desired to maintain her status as a high lady. She was elated when Brandon Stark asked for hand, and all her handmaidens and companions were seething in envy. Brandon was to be the Lord of Winterfell; he was handsome and strong and the dreams of many young women in Westeros. After Jaime Lannister left for the King’s Guard, he was the most eligible bachelor in the kingdom.

And then Lyanna Stark was kidnapped, and like the hot-blooded man he was, Brandon rode to King’s landing and got himself killed. Catelyn was horrified. She loved him, or at least, she thought it was love, given her youthful inexperience. She wondered what would happen to her, what would happen to all of them. When the news of Brandon’s death arrived to Riverrun, all the envious stares and whispers of admiration turned to looks of pity and malicious sympathies. _Poor Catelyn Tully, Brandon broke her heart, if he rode faster, she could have been a Stark._ Earlier today, her father came to her chambers and told her that they will be going to war. Good, Catelyn thought, let the Mad King pay for what he did. After he told her this, he asked if she still wished to be the Lady of Winterfell.

“What do you mean?” she has asked.

“Brandon had a younger brother. Eddard Stark. He is now the Lord of Winterfell.”

“Is he unwed?”

Lord Tully took her hand and told his beloved daughter, “Yes.”

If they win the war, Eddard Stark would become the most eligible men in the kingdom. No one knew anything of Eddard, but his friendship to Robert Baratheon and Jon Arryn was known and so was his celibacy. Eddard Stark would do.

“Father, I want to be the Lady of Winterfell.”

Lord Tully kissed his daughter’s forehead, who was clever and beautiful and the apple of his eye, and declared it so.

Before her wedding, and Catelyn received a visitor in her room. He was unlike anybody she’d ever seen before, with his small stature, pale skin, and catlike green eyes that glowed in the candlelight. He was ethereal and wispy, like a leaf in the wind. She asked who he was, and then, in an attempt to draw fear, threatened to call for her father’s men if he did not leave.

“Your father’s men are preparing for war. Surely, the future Lady Stark should realize this.” The man walked up to her. “Or did you hope I was an idiot?”

Catelyn held her back against the door. “I am prepared to scream.”

“I would silence you before you could do so.”

Catelyn opened her mouth, and was met with a knife through her throat. So fast, Catelyn wondered. She clamped her lips shut.   
“Smart girl.”

“I am the daughter of Holster Tully. Lay a hand on me and my father will have you killed. Lord Stark—”

“Will be free to marry whoever he chooses,” the man whispered. “And not the woman whose father forced his hand.”

Catelyn could not respond.

“I am not going to kill you tonight. Ned would never forgive me for spilling the blood of an innocent girl. But I am here to offer you a compromise,” he whispered. “Refuse Ned’s hand. Tell your father you wish to marry someone else. Perhaps a Lannister, or a Tyrell, or a Martell. I don’t care.  Regardless if you win or lose, your hand will be sought out and wouldn’t that be nice? You’ll be known as the lady who brought peace to Westeros.”

The offer sounded lovely. “My father wants to go to war. He wishes to end the Targaryen rule. His army provides a dowry, and Eddard Stark runs almost half of Westeros,” Catelyn pointed out. She knew now that the man did not wish—could not harm her. “Why would I refuse Ned Stark’s hand?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “I love Ned,” he admitted. “He is in love with me. Would you separate two lovers for your own advancement?”

The confessions tugged at Catelyn’s heartstrings, but she knew that love meant little in the game of thrones. She was no fool, and would not allow her heart to persuade her thoughts. “I am sorry, but these things cannot be helped.” She looked at the man, and his tattered robes and wondered if the omega was from a house or just some foot soldier. “I’m sure you will marry well within your station one day.” He was eye-catching, without a doubt. This was a man whose body was made to tempt, and suddenly Catelyn felt bitter.

The man’s eyes became malicious; greener than Catelyn thought possible. Catelyn took a step to the side and kept a hand on the door. He warned her, “This will not end well for you, Catelyn Tully. You will be cursed for this, and I will make sure that the nameless gods punish your soul in return for the ravishment of mine.”

Catelyn, with every ounce of bravery she could muster, sneered and told him to get out of her room. She would not heed his threats. His eyes narrowed and he called her a brave girl. He took a step forward and asked her to move, so that he may leave. She did so, and when he was gone, she sunk to her knees in fright.

The day of her wedding, she caught a glimpse of her future husband and found that the lack of rumors suited him perfectly. He was a plain man, and did not draw the room like Brandon. He was not as tall as his brother, Catelyn thought, with some disappointment. His face was stern and he had eyes that could not keep themselves in one spot. His attention was always drifting elsewhere as if he was searching for something. Or someone, her mind whispered. Catelyn shooed those thoughts away. Ned was her husband now, and as she heard from her guests, he was a good and loyal man.

Before it was time for the ceremony, Catelyn heard Jon Arryn and Robert Baratheon talking.

“I’ve never had a truer friend than Ned,” Robert exclaimed. “To do this requires greater balls than you and I ever had.”

Catelyn’s blood boiled in anger. She was Catelyn Tully, and one of the most beautiful women in the kingdom. She may not have been Cersei Lannister but she was an enviable choice for most men.

Jon nodded in agreement. “Have you seen the Reed boy?”

Robert scoffed. “Caught him last night leaving on horseback, thought he was abandoning ship.”

“Was he?”

“No, he told me he preferred to travel at night and wished to get a head start for the next camp site. He traveled in the right way, at least.”

“I do not blame him. There is no greater pain to see another love get taken away from them.”

Robert agreed, for he knew that pain very well. “I remember when they first met. My Lyanna,” Robert sounded so wistful. “Brought him to the Stark quarters. Ned will deny it with a vengeance, but he was completely smitten with him.” Robert chuckled. “I told Ned he needed to loosen up, or else Brandon would steal him away like he did all the others. Ned looked absolutely terrified. He had nothing to fear, though. That boy was taken with Ned from the first sight. Every omega in the room would drop their skirts for a night with Brandon and that boy forgot he even existed. He was something special, like my Lyanna.”

Catelyn could hear no more. They did not know she was there, but the implication was that she was another girl, and this bog devil was ‘special.’ He was the one Ned loved. She was a job, and he was a dream. She walked away in a huff and prepared herself for her wedding. She kept telling herself that the past meant nothing, that Ned would be her husband soon, and she would show him that she was worth more than a filthy frog eater.

When Ned put his cloak on her, she tried to smile. She looked at Ned as if he were the most handsome man in the world, in hopes that the flattery would get him to falter in his affections for another. It did not. Like a loyal dog, he cloaked her and spoke his vows with the fervor of a maester reciting a recipe for lemon cakes. They ate together, and whenever Catelyn attempted to start a conversation, she was met with nods and answers worthy of a fool. His eyes were on the people.

Robert came towards them, winked, and asked if Ned was ready for the wedding night. Catelyn, who was already bored and wearied by her husband’s disinterest, did not bother to feign embarrassment. Ned got up and whispered something in Robert’s ear. Robert said something back, and his voice, even in whisper, was loud enough to hear “… left last night…sorry…Ned…loves you…”

Ned nodded. He asked something of Robert, before returning to his side by Catelyn. Robert made a toast and announced it was time for the bedding. Catelyn understood what was the request. Ned did not appear eager, or wanton. Catelyn found herself biting back tears when the men stripped her.

Ned wanted this over with.

That night, Ned Stark had sex with her with the technical provision of a blacksmith creating a cooking knife or an architect designing a shed. There was no love. He entered her and every so often asked if she was well or hurting. Even inside her, he was quiet. He barely moaned or grunted, and held back when he cum. His knot stuck them together. She knew he wanted to say another’s name, and looked away to avoid the sight of his marked skin, the skin of a man who had a lover. She tolerated it and did not complain. When he was finished, he asked if she wanted help to complete herself. Like a good wife, she said he was already done, and that was enough. He looked at her and told her he could help. She was surprised when he used his fingers to give her release. Afterward, they went to sleep. Catelyn rested knowing that there were worst beddings, and Ned slept knowing he was able to leave in the morning. 

Robert rode south and headed to Ashford to deal with Lord Tarly’s forces. Ned rode towards the Vale with Jon Arryn to deal with the men of Gulltown. Howland was already waiting for him. He kissed Ned with fervor, and though it had been days since he touched Catelyn, he claimed to have been able to taste her on Ned’s lips. He dragged him into his tent and demanded to rectify the situation. They made love every night towards the Taking of Gulltown, a battle which they won with few Northern losses, though that was soon to change.

After Gulltown, Ned was able to gather most of his bannermen together and ride with them south to the Stoney Sept where Robert was waiting. He won a victory at Summerhall but was still collecting himself after the defeat in Ashford.

There were many whispers in the campsite, and though the Northerners were loyal to the Starks, they had no such respect to the lowly crannogman who shared a bed with their lord. Howland, to his credit, bore them no ill will.  
“They are jealous,” Howland told Ned one night. He was on his knees and licking the tip of Ned’s cock.

“Of what?” Ned groaned when Howland placed the tip in his mouth. Ned wanted to fuck Howland’s throat; force his cock so deep inside his throat, he would choke on him. The thought scared Ned. The war was turning him into someone hard and cruel. Howland read his mind and forced more of it inside him. Ned could feel his cock hit the back of Howland’s throat. Howland gagged and the sensation squeezed his cock. He was forced to release him.

Howland rubbed the thick and veiny dick against his face. He sucked on the glans and on the length of it. “They are angry that Lord Stark does not share his whore.” Howland kissed the tip and then attempted to swallow him whole again. This time, he was able to get a full three inches down his throat. Ned almost came right then and there and forced himself to stay hard while the throat constricted around his cock.

“You…” Ned breathed out. He told himself not to thrust. “You are not a whore.”

Howland hummed around the cock. Ned could no longer resist and released a river of come down Howland’s throat. Howland tried to keep his mouth on Ned, but eventually, the volume was too much and he had to let go. Ned continued to cum all over Howland’s face.

Howland collected the seed from his face and painted Ned’s chest with it. Howland climbed onto his lap and licked it off.

“No, but you should hear the things they say about me,” Howland whispered. He grinded on Ned’s flaccid cock. “They call me pretty. They talk about how small I am, how you must tear me apart whenever we make love, how I must have a gaping hole in my pussy from all the times you fuck me.”

The words inspired anger within Ned, and arousal he never felt before. Howland continued his teasing. “I heard an Umber say he would keep me as a cockwarmer, just split me open and keep my pussy wrapped around him as he fought. He told his men that he wanted me at his dinner table and when he was sated, planned to share me with his men.”

Ned was already hard. He felt his fingers twitching for a sword. “Who else?”

Howland wrapped his hands around him. “The Bolton lord…he said he's never seen a crannogman up close. He told me he wanted to see what it was like inside me. He talked about sharing me with his men. Keeping me in his tent when you were gone and letting every one of them take turns until I was stretched beyond repair.”

Ned forced Howland onto his bed. “I would never let them touch you.”

Howland laughed. “I would never let them touch me.”

“You’ve been attacked before.”

Howland remembered those men. “My mother warned me not to draw attention to myself. And there are few things more eye-catching then an omega crannogman slitting the throats of three Southern horses.”

“The horses?”

“We were at a tourney. I figured the impact would be greater and with less consequence.” Howland kissed Ned. “But you took my vengeance for me.”

Ned could not help but smile. He kissed Howland and held him again. Ned’s movements were rough and he was not easily sated tonight. He fucked like a man preparing for death. Howland accommodated his wrath and told him to go deeper, hit harder, for his body was his to use.

When Ned woke up, it was hours before day broke, and Howland was gone. He went to the woods and found his lover carving a face into a still growing weirwood tree. 

“Howland?”  
Howland did not respond. Ned approached him and saw that the face was angry. Ned tried to touch Howland but received a rough dismissal. He looked into Howland’s eyes and found them no longer to be the color of lily-pads but the rage of emeralds. Howland said something to him, but it was not a human language. When Howland was finished carving, he put back his knife in his holster.

“Don’t interrupt me again, Ned.” Howland’s request was quiet. “I could not bear it if I hurt you.”

Ned stared at him. He turned to the heart tree.

“What tree is this?”

“A weirwood,” Howland whispered.

Ned told him that he was not aware they still grew in the South.

“They don’t,” Howland told him without any clarity. “The Andals chopped them all down years ago.”

“Yet they grow where you wish?”

“They grow where they’re needed.”

Howland laid next to the tree, and though young, it provided him a wall to lean on. He reached out to Ned. “A battle is approaching.”

Ned sighed. “I know.”

“Then pray with me.”

Ned sat down next to him. He put his sword down and leaned his head on Howland’s shoulder and kissed him there. “You keep secrets from me.”

“I wish to protect you and my people from harm. Keeping secrets do both.”

“I wish you did not have to.”

“I wish that as well.”

Howland rested in Ned’s arms until morning. They left to eat breakfast, where Ned kept him by his side and away from the Umbers and the Boltons. “And the Manderlys and the Glovers as well,” whispered Howland as he stroked his lord’s thigh. Out of irritation, he held Howland in his lap, much to the laughter of his men.

Their day was not to stay pleasant. They were joined by Holster Tully and the men he managed to acquire after settling a civil dispute in the Riverlands. No one was surprised. Only the Northerners were completely voided of loyalists. Ned refused Lord Tully’s request to stop bedding his “crannogwhore” in their camp, though on the advice of Jon Arryn, he agreed to stop open displays of affections. Howland became more involved in the affairs of the camp, and was now present when applying his aid to the people. Before, he would allusively hand the herbs and tonics in mysterious places. Ned asked him how he knew so much about plant life.

“We have no maesters in the Neck, Ned. We are our own healers.” Howland smiled as he distributed the dandelions and the berries. “We are not as primitive as everyone would like to believe.”

Though they still traded insults about the crannogmen, they no longer whispered it but said it loudly when they realized Howland was not a man without humor. Finally, after gathering what meager rations they had, Jon Arryn received a raven from Robert at the Stoney Sept. He demanded their forces to come together for they are in a dire situation. Robert, who was so proud, was asking for help and was gravely wounded.

At the Battle of the Bells, Jon Connington led the royal army fiercely. He, like Robert, fought for the sake of love and obsession. He took apart the town searching for Robert, and was surprised to see so many people reluctant to help the king. Then, the forces of Stark, Tully, and Arryn arrived. Connington’s men fought proudly, but they were nothing compared to the thousands of men riding on their footsteps. Connington cornered the Arryn heir and without mercy, slipped a blade into his heart. He would have done the same for Ned, had Howland not whisper a spell in his mother’s language and asked for the Gods to award him a flame. The weirwood tree only just birthed. The flame was minute but it led Ned’s escape. Ned looked at Howland, but made no accusations of the magic he just witnessed. They continued to fight alongside each other. Howland was not a strong man, but he fought like a dishonorable one. He climbed rooftops and aimed at their enemies as if he were hunting snakes and turtles—and those were a great deal harder to hit. Ned gave him a sword, but it was heavy, and Howland found himself thankful whenever another disarmed him. He played dead and then came back to life when it was time to stab a man in the back. The men who mocked his methods were never more grateful when they were used to save their lives. One man was tempted to kiss him if not for the warning that their lord was watching. 

Finally, Robert recovered from his wounds and the battle was theirs. Jon Connington refused to have more lives lost, and retreated. His decision to save his remaining men led to him being cast away by the king.

After the battle, Lord Tully took the opportunity to propose a union with his youngest daughter to Lord Arryn. Such a clever man, Howland thought, as he hid outside their tent, listening to Lord Tully sell his child to a man older than him.  He was gleeful as the man confessed that his daughter was deflowered and ruined, but she was also fertile and Jon was in need of an heir. Lord Arryn, exhausted by the battle and close to the heat of death, agreed. They would wed as soon as they can.

On their way to Trident, where Prince Rhaegar’s army was rumored to be resting, Howland became inflicted with a belated heat. Ned heard rumors that omegas grouped together would sync their cycles simultaneously. Like most omegas, Howland’s heats occurred quarterly. His transpired two weeks before they met. Ned thought that after fourth months of being together, Howland’s body was either too stressed to undergo the fever or, and this was a fearsome notion that made Ned unbearably happy and terribly worried, he was pregnant. It did not occur to him that Howland was simply biding his time, along with the other omegas, for a safe location.

It began with a single, mated omega breaking out into a heat, and then one of the whores that the party employed was struck. It was not long before the plague took all of the group’s omegan companions. Howland was one of the last ones. Their omega population consisted primarily of mated males who fought alongside their alphas and the whores the party employed. Contraception was limited and was primarily reserved for the rare unmated ones who wished to couple with an alpha during their fevers. The unmated ones who didn’t were sent to safe tents, where soldiers who recently finished their heats, or had yet to start, were asked to guard them.

Howland kept Ned at his bedside throughout the duration of his heat and was proud of the rut he stimulated within his partner. Ned was battle worn and his body needed to be reminded of life. Howland was no fool to the twitches in Ned’s fingers and the moments where he would stare into nothingness. Howland knew that simple bedding would not relieve him of this, but a child born of their love and passion might help.

“I love you, Ned,” Howland declared as he grasped onto his back. “I will love no other but you until the day I die.”

Ned fucked Howland into their bed. He bit his shoulder until there was a bloody scar and Howland was screaming. He licked and mouthed at every crevice of Howland’s body and gorged himself on Howland’s cream. The taste was addicting. He brought Howland into his lap, and spread his ass cheeks apart so his cockhead could go into the tight muscle of Howland’s entrance. He dropped Howland on top of it and listened to him scream. He rammed his knot into his prostate over and over again, and was not satisfied with the juices flooding him. He used one arm to keep Howland’s legs spread and the other to stuff Howland’s cunt.

The next day, Ned kept Howland on his hands and knees and plunged his cock into Howland’s pussy. He pulled back hard enough to drag the lips out. Then, he forced himself back in. “You’re going to give me a child,” Howland whispered. “I hope he looks like you.”

Ned heard nothing by the squelching of Howland’s body and the slick dripping out of his cunt and hole. He seemed at peace, though, whenever Howland made such a declaration, and so Howland spoke often.

When they finished, Howland announced he was pregnant, and Lord Tully was livid.

“You have dishonored my daughter, Lord Stark! I will not stand for a bastard living beside her and her trueborn children! Did you not read she was with child?”

He did, and though he was happy, he would not deny that he rather that child be Howland’s. Ned sighed. “We do not know for sure if Howland is pregnant.” Though the other option was extremely unlikely.

“And it is not your decision, Lord Tully.” Howland reminded. “Or did you think after forcing Ned’s hand once; you could continue to do so for the duration of their marriage?”

Lord Tully huffed at the accusation. He turned to Lord Arryn. “He is your ward! Do something!”

Jon Arryn looked at Howland. The wrinkles on his eyes were pronounced. Howland felt pity for this man who had lost his heir and was forced into a loveless marriage outside his prime. He was too old for that. “Lord Reed…”

“I am not Lord Reed, Lord Arryn. My father is still alive, and so is my mother.”

“A dying man, and an unseen woman. Perhaps the reason you are so eager for a bastard is because you are one yourself,” Lord Tully spat out.

Howland felt nothing from the insult. “They are married under the old gods you reject; my mother is not of noble means, and The Citadel does not care to record my people's marriages unless they are with those outside the Neck.”

“A common-born whore as I expected.”

“Enough!” Eddard Stark rose from the table, and though so young, he stood up to Lord Tully as a man. “I am tired of this, Lord Tully. I have kept my father’s oath to you. I have married your daughter as you requested.  She shall be the Lady of Winterfell, as promised, and our children shall become my heirs. They will carry the Stark name, and they will have my devotion to them. I will not falter on my duties as a father.” He turned to Howland. “To any of my children. Howland Reed is the man I love and the man I married before your interference. I will send my apologies to your daughter—but I will not comply with your wishes concerning my blood.” He left the room with a single parting message. “We have a war to fight, and men to send to their deaths. I doubt the news of my child surpasses the severity of that issue.”

Howland stood to leave, but Lord Arryn asked him to stay. He looked to Lord Tully and turned to Howland. “Lord Howland, perhaps…we can come to an arrangement.”

Howland smiled, amused by the thought. “What sort of arrangement?”

“The Neck is an important stronghold to the North. We heard from our informants that our enemies have retreated from their efforts to travel upwards in light of the crannogmen’s tactics.”

“Is that not what I promised?”

“It is,” Jon agreed. “But I understand that the Neck is not a rich region, and there is hardly anything to live on besides fishing and frogging.”

Howland does not deny it, but pointed out that it made them stronger. “We are no different now than when the war started. There are towns in the south, like those in the Vale and the Riverlands, who are starving from inexperience. Perhaps, you should worry about your own people before questioning mine.”

The insult did not make Jon falter, though Lord Tully strengthened his glare.

“We will take that into consideration. In the meantime, we would like to extend another offer, one that works for everyone’s best interest. I’m sure you are aware of the riverlands’ proximity to the Neck.”

“I’ve dealt with my share of Freys, yes.”

“And of course, the riverlands are quite fertile in their crops and livestock. After this war and with the alliances of the Starks and the Tullys, it would be generous of Lord Tully to extend his aid to the Neck, from time to time.”

“My people would appreciate that,” Howland admitted. “But what would Lord Tully ask of me in return? I don’t think he likes me enough to do this of his own good will.”

“To spare your child a life of ridicule, Lord Howland,” Jon answered. “The life of bastard is not an easy one. It would be a mercy for him, or her, to not leave your womb at all.” 

They expected outrage. Howland simply asked what Lord Tully planned to do if he refused. “Will you poison my water with tansy, like you did your youngest daughter?”

Lord Tully turned to ice at the suggestion.

“Yes, we swamp dwellers have a talent for appearing where we are least wanted.” Howland stood up. “Worry not, I will keep your secret—except, of course, to my fellow crannogmen. My sister found the story to be tragic. She worried for my life when I sent her the message—ravens are the strangest creatures; I shall consider getting one when I return home.” He was half Holster Tully’s size but looked up at him with his beautiful eyes and gave him a warning. “She knows, and if anything were to happen to me…I fear many more people shall know.” He turned to Lord Arryn. “Lord Arryn is the Lord of the Vale. Surely he did not know, or else he would be made a fool for wedding an impure woman, and you would be a liar. Your daughter would never marry unless it is to that minor lord who impregnated her and you cannot have that, can you?”

Neither of them said anything.

Howland bowed. “I wish you well. Let us meet on the battlefield as friends.”

“You will still continue to fight?” Jon Arryn questioned.

“Of course. I cannot leave Ned’s side. He fights like an honorable man. Honorable men get killed in battle.”

“And what of your child?”

 Lord Tully sent an infuriated look at Jon Arryn. He wanted Howland on the battlefield. He wanted that him and his child’s life in danger. Let that child spill out of your cunt, he was probably thinking, let a man stab you in the stomach and rid your body of that bastard.

Howland smiled enigmatically. “The Old Gods will protect us. I shall protect Ned.”

He left the tent and prepared for battle. 

The Battle of the Trident, was perhaps the worst battle they experienced yet.

Howland believed the horses would shake him off sooner than he could ride them, and stayed near the ground, away from the eyes of man. He kept close to Ned, and slit the hooves of equine and dug his poison blades into men. He was given a spear and thrusted it into anyone who came close to him.

From afar, he could see the Lord of the Stormlands and the Prince of Westeros battle on horseback. Rhaegar’s sword was sharp and made of Valyrian steel, and it glistened in the sunlight. It was pretty, but pretty was no match for Robert’s warhammer. He missed the moment Robert hit Rhaegar Targaryean’s ruby armor because he heard a woman scream in the distance. He turned, and there was no one. A soldier came to his side, and Howland dodged his sword before grabbing his knife and slitting the man’s throat.

He turned back to Targaryean and the Baratheon, and found there was only one man standing. That night, Robert Baratheon made his aspirations known. He wanted to be king. He had his maesters draw up all the dynasties and found a rightful claim to the throne when there was none before. His grandmother was Targaryean. How laughable.

Due to his injuries, Robert gave a command to Ned to pursue King’s Landing, where he would shortly follow and take his place on the Iron Throne. Ever the loyal friend, Ned agreed and they took their men to the capital. The Freys joined them, and Howland found that they shared a common contempt towards the vile lord. He told Ned this, and they laughed. Their love making was sweet that night, grateful for the war being so close to an end. Lyanna still needed to be rescued, but that was only a matter of time.

On the day they arrived to King’s Landing, Howland awoke to a horrible dream. He saw wildfire burning, and the blood spilled all over a birthing bed. He had this dream before, but never one so vivid. He saw women with their legs split open and their genitals torn apart. He watched children running around with open skulls and knives in their hearts and he could not stomach it. He threw up and cried. Howland believed the Battle of Trident to be the worst of the war. He was wrong.

Tywin Lannister presented the mangled corpses of Aegon and Rhaenys in red cloaks. He called them gifts to his new king. Robert grinned, and accepted it graciously. He praised Tywin Lannister as the savior of King’s Landing.

Howland would not have it.  Ned held him back, but from his whispers of comfort and the heat in his glare, it was obvious he was tempted to let him lunge at Robert. He reprimanded Robert, with a voice of ice, that this was not a joyous occasion. This was murder, for the young prince and princess were not more than babes, and that their assailants should be punished.

Robert laughed heartily. “I see no babes, only dragonspawn.”

Ned let go of Howland. For the first time they met, Ned acted faster than Howland. He attacked Robert with a fist to his face, and called him unworthy to rule. Howland sunk to his knees and held the mutilated bodies with such compassion, that one would believe they were still alive. He caressed the hole where Rhaenys heart would be, and held up Aegon’s head as if it were whole.

Robert ordered Ned to stand down. Howland spoke. 

“She never loved you.”

Robert turned to the crannogman. “What?”

“Lyanna never loved you,” Howland repeated. He wiped away Rhaenys hair from her face. “She never loved you.”  
“Lying whore!” Robert screamed. Ned held him back, a clear look in his eyes saying that if he laid a hand on Howland, they would have to look for another king. 

Howland continued. “She told me so. When I confessed my feelings for Ned, she said that I needed to act fast. Lord Stark wanted a string of Southern marriages to strengthen his family’s power. She said ‘Marry Ned, for he adores you. At least one of us can be happy.’ I asked her what she meant and she cried, telling me she was afraid. She hated the thought of you. You made her sick.”

Robert, in his rage, pushed Ned aside and struck Howland hard enough to send him to the floor, next to Elia’s corpse. 

Howland got up. He still held the Targaryean children in his arms. “And now I know why.”

Robert roared profanities at him. He attempted to strike him again, but Ned stopped him. They argued for some time and fought each other viciously. Howland ignored all of them and asked if they should send the bones to the Martells or the crypts below. No one answered him. Ned, after withstanding some bruises and giving a few, said they were leaving for Storm’s End to lift the siege, and then to Dorne to rescue Lyanna. He ordered his men to prepare the bodies for a burial. Robert ordered against it. The northerners obeyed Lord Stark’s command while the southerners stood.

After they sailed their ships for Storm’s End and lifted the siege, Howland told Ned that the Neck will not kneel. Robert Baratheon will not rule them.

“He is our king.”

“No,” Howland whispered. “The crannogmen will never obey a man who smiles at the corpses of children.”

Ned did not respond. He kissed Howland’s head, and together, they planned the rescue of his sister.

Howland carried no respect for the King’s Guard. He could not justify honor in defending a Mad King and following the orders of a prince who led his people to war for the sake of a prophecy no one believed in. He cared little for the man he stabbed in the back, and though his blood was hot, Lyanna’s screams turned Howland to ice. Lyanna was beautiful, even on her deathbed. In the sea of blood, she asked if Ned was actually there, if this was all a dream. He swore to her it was not. She smiled in the midst of her tears, and told Ned she was afraid to die. She wanted to be brave, but it was so hard.

Howland disagreed. “You are brave, Lyanna. You are the strongest and bravest person I know.”

Lyanna called him a liar with affection. She reached for Ned’s hand, and then for Howland’s.

“You two…When I saw you two leave the day of the tourney…I was so jealous. I wanted that…I wanted your happiness. I thought…I thought Rhaegar…” Lyanna choked. The pain was traveling further up her body. “He wanted a child…He wanted…me…Ah!”

“Lyanna!” Ned cried. He turned to the wet nurse and demanded water. Howland stopped him. It was too late now.

“Lyanna, it will alright,” Howland soothed. He promised to take the pain away. He pressed his hand onto her stomach but she refused him. “Stop!”

Howland paused.

“I…the child…he took a single breath…I heard him a cry…but he…” Lyanna sobbed. “He…couldn’t…I tried…please, save him…Howland…”

Howland shut his eyes close. “Lyanna, I can’t—”

“Please!”

Howland clutched onto her hand a little harder before letting go. He left her last words for Ned. He looked below and saw the stillborn boy. Another dead Targaryean to keep Rhaegar and his wives company. He looked like Ned, or how Howland thought their baby would look like.

“Please...promise me you’ll try…”

Ned tried to reason with her, but there was no use. There was no point in pleading with a dead woman.

Howland was told by his mother that she suffered many miscarriages, for her people were not made to mate with the First Men. Like her sistren and brethren, she tried for the sake of love. With each fallen child, she took a bit of their soul and captured their strength. That was why Howland and Jyana were so precious. They carried their siblings within them.

Howland took the baby in his arms and kissed him on the forehead. He was cold. Howland prayed to the Old Gods, and asked that they give him life, if not in the child in his arms but in the one he carried in his womb. He spoke in the True Tongue and asked they take care of Lyanna and her child, and also welcomed the Targaryean babes into their hold, for their gods have abandoned them. He felt his body grow warm. He touched the swell of his stomach and there was a heat accompanied by a chill.

The war was over; it took the lives of three dragons, three wolves, and a boy who never grew up to be either in the end.

 

 

2/2

Ned carried his sister’s body to King’s Landing and reunited with Robert as brothers under their shared grief. When it was time for all the high lords to swear their loyalty to their new king, Howland was silent. He guarded over Lyanna’s coffin with the fierceness of a newly mothered wolf. Ned wished to leave for Winterfell after the ceremonies. He claimed his brother had bared the burden of Winterfell for too long, and he wished to bury Lyanna with his father and brother. He acquiesced to staying one more night at the capital, and only for the sake of his surviving men.

“Let them enjoy a banquet,” Robert exclaimed. “The war is over.”

Ned complied but retired to bed early. Howland followed. When they were alone, he undressed Ned and ran his hands over his lover’s newfound scars. He kissed each one of them. He looked into Ned’s eyes, and clutched his face and told him that he was allowed to mourn.

“What would you have me do?” Ned asked.

“Cry,” Howland replied. “Cry for the lives lost, for the ones precious to you.”

Ned, who came into this war a boy, and left a man, told him that he had cried his share at Lyanna’s bedside. He sunk his head on Howland’s chest and his mouth nipped and suckled on his breasts. Howland’s body was accommodating a child, and his tits were swelling to provide milk. His nipples were pink and puffy and Ned latched onto them like a babe. He picked Howland up in his arms so that he chest was aligned with Ned’s face. Howland ran his hands in Ned’s hair.

“Ned…” He moaned. “Ned, you must leave some for our child.”

Ned growled and forced him onto his bed. He climbed on top of him and kissed him madly. He pressed his hand against Howland’s stomach, which was already round with life. In the months to come, the bump will be ready to burst. The moment was so tender that when Ned ripped Howland’s pants open, Howland could not fight his scream of surprise when Ned entered him.

Ned fucked like a man who wanted another child. He wanted to replace the one Lyanna lost, and Howland wanted to make Ned happy. He milked Ned until his balls were empty, and encouraged Ned to continue after he’d passed out from pleasure. “Yours, yours, I’m all yours,” he promised.

When they woke up the next morning, Howland found his holes overstuffed with come and whenever he walked, the liquid would drip past his thighs. They had no time for a bath, so Howland left the capital with his holes completely drenched and open.

He took to wearing skirts and loose robes on their journey home, much to the mockery of their men. It was not unusual for male omegas to do so, especially those with child, but they kept their lusts abided with humor. Ned Stark kept his lover close, but he could not stop the looks of envy being sent his way. There were few things more arousing than a fertile omega. With the dresses meant a lack of undergarments, and access to his holes whenever Ned pleased. Ned ate with his men as often as he could, but there were a number of times he was dragged into the woods for a tryst. They made love as often as they could. Every day on the road was a day closer to Riverrun, and therefore, closer to his lawfully wedded wife.

Catelyn Stark sat by the window overlooking the North with her son cradled in her arms. Barely three months old, and he was already destined for greatness men could only dream of. She told her child, “This is yours. The lands and the keeps and the castles and the horses and the rivers. They will all be yours one day.” She caressed her son’s face. He was so handsome. His Tully coloring was already pushing through. She kissed him and he giggled. She continued kissing him and telling him how happy she was that he was here. She remembered being frightened of his survival once, before the Battle of Trident, before victory was assured by the rebels. Now, her son will become one of the most powerful men in the kingdom, and no one can stop him.

“My lady,” a servant addressed. He sounded out of breath.

Lady Tully—no, Lady Stark turned around.

“Your father has arrived. As well as…your husband, Lord Stark.”

Catelyn gripped onto the bundle tighter. She tried to appear happy—no she should be elated. They won the war! Her father was alive and well. She was not a widow. But none of that mattered when she passed one of her handmaidens, a daughter of House Blackwood or House Bracken, or something she couldn’t remember, who sent her a look of pity so strong that Catelyn wanted to go back into her room and stay with her son forever.

She attempted to hold her head up high when she greeted her father. She pulled him into a warm hug while her sister cried behind her. Catelyn had to practically drag her outside to meet her future husband. Lysa glared viciously at her father, but then she remembered her manners and introduced herself to Lord Arryn. Catelyn saw that while he was old, he was gracious about her discomfort and did not mind her wailing.

“Lady Stark?”

Catelyn turned to her husband. He gave her a nod of address as if she were one of his soldiers. She turned her grimace into a smile. “Lord Stark, I have wonderful news.” She took a step forward and brought forth their child into view. Lord Stark’s eyes lit up at the sight of his son, his alpha, and heir, and for the first time since they met, he smiled at her. He took him into his arms and caressed him with a tenderness she did not think possible for a man of his nature. For a moment, she believed she could love him.

“What is his name?”

“I thought to name him Robert, in honor of our king,” Catelyn declared. “I’ve been calling him Robb.” Ned nodded and agreed to the decree. Her son did not cry or squeal in the presence of his father. He laughed and smiled and tugged on his father’s hair, which made them all lit up with joy. There was nothing sweeter than a child’s laughter, and she had done her duty to provide it. Catelyn thought she had won.

“He is a beautiful boy.”

Catelyn found it hard to breathe when he heard the voice. The boy from her wedding night, who was now swollen with a child whose father could only be one man, came into view. He asked to hold the baby. When Ned complied to his request, it took all her teachings from her septa, from her tutors, and from her mother, the ever dutiful Lady Tully, to not scream at her husband.

“I don’t care for red though. It reminds me of blood.” Howland announced. Catelyn cringed at the comparison. “Let us hope he grows up looking more Stark.” He brushed his fingers against the boy’s almost bald head.

Howland handed back the child to Ned. He looked at Howland with a concerned expression but said nothing that could incriminate him. Ned turned back to Catelyn and thanked her for providing him with a child. They should go inside and discussed their plans for the future. Catelyn agreed, and when Ned handed over their child, she found, to her horror, that Robb’s hair looked a tad darker.

“Is there something the matter, Cat?” Her father asked.

Catelyn thought about saying something, but then her son started crying and she quickly did her duty as a mother. “Nothing, father.” 

They joined together at the table, her father and sister, Lord Arryn and Lord Stark. She excused herself out of propriety, but thankfully sat when her father gave her and her sister permission to sit. She glanced at Ned to see his reaction. _I would be a good wife,_ she thought _, loyal and obedient. Watch me, Lord Stark, give me a chance._ Lord Stark was not paying attention. His eyes were on Howland. Catelyn’s father suggested that Howland leave, for this was a family matter. The implication, which was used to insult Howland and further shame him into submission did nothing but stir Ned’s wrath. To everyone’s surprise, however, Howland did not fight the order. The crannogman’s eyes followed Catelyn’s baby the entire time and seemed pleased by the opportunity to be near him again.

When Howland left the room, he almost chased down the septa who carried Robb. He watched the woman reach the nursery and place her in his crib. He frowned when he heard the woman recount prayers and legends of the Seven, and decided that this could not go on. He entered the nursery, and before the woman could scream or question him, he slipped a bit of poison into her neck and hushed her to sleep. He placed her in a nearby chair.

Howland took the child into his arms and began rocking him, recalling a history he knew to be true by the First Men and those who sing songs of earth. He cradled the boy with love and told him that he was the son of a great man, and with the proper tutelage, he would become a great lord.

“You must also be a good older brother, and love your younger sibling. I…” Howland smiled down at Robb. “I have not told your father this yet…but I think I’m having a boy. You’ll have a little brother soon. I used to want a girl, to name Lyanna, but…whenever I say her name, your father becomes so sad. So I’m happy for a boy.” He caressed Robb’s face. “I can tell you will be a good man, Robb. Your father is so happy you are here.”

“Are you happy?”

Howland looked up to see Ned staring at him. His eyes were hard and probing. He walked up to Howland and they kissed. Howland asked Ned how could he not be.

“You have a healthy son. He laughs and cries like a baby should.” Robb giggled and reached up to Howland’s breasts to suckle. He latched onto the areola and tried to milk him. “He also has a healthy appetite.” Ned chuckled as Howland was forced to remove the boy from his breast. “I know you already ate, little pig,” Howland scolded in mock anger. The boy giggled to hide his mischief. Howland smiled and put him back in his crib.

“Do you wish he was yours?”

“Of course I do,” Howland admitted. “But he is your son, and not even the Gods can change that. He has your blood. I love him for that. My hatred for his mother does not overwhelm my love for your kin.”

Ned found his relief to be unimaginable. He glanced at the sleeping septa and choose not to question Howland’s methods. The woman was breathing, at least. Howland’s robe was undone. Ned saw that there was a remnant of milk on the top of Howland’s nipple.

“Your breasts have gotten bigger.”

“Oh?” Howland looked up at him, an expression full of feign innocence. He undid his robe while keeping his eyes on Ned. “I did not notice,” Howland teased as he dropped the robe to the ground. His breasts were transcending from apples to oranges. “Maybe it’s from all the attention you’ve been giving them.”

“Or perhaps it’s because our child is about to be born?” Ned suggested instead.

Howland laughed. “I love that you don’t amuse me.” Ned smiled, for if there was one thing Ned has been accused of, it was lacking a sense of humor. Howland pawed at Ned’s jerkin until he removed it. They could not keep their lips off each other, except when Ned reminded him that this was his son’s nursery. Howland said he will have a new one soon enough, and he promised to keep that one pure. He told Ned to lie on his back.

“I want to ride you like a horse.”  

When they were finished, Howland and Ned left the room before the septa could wake. Ned needed to send a raven to his brother, and asked Howland to help out the men in collecting their supplies. When he walked to the camps, he ran into the Lady Stark. Though he was content with ignoring her, he could not help but catch the glare she sent his stomach’s way. Howland understood that if his child was to live a happy life amongst his half siblings, he must rid Lady Stark of that attitude.

“Lady Stark, my congratulations on the birth of your son. Robb is a fine boy.” 

Lady Stark was uncomfortable with his kindness. “Thank you, Lord Reed. I see you also have a child on the way. Yet you bear my son no resentment?”

Howland laughed. “When I look at your son, I see a beautiful boy who carries the blood of the man I love. How can I not find him precious? He will be my child’s brother, and they will both have my affection.”

The sentiment was lovely, but unforgivable.

“I will not allow that.”

Howland’s smile faltered. 

“My son, as you stated, shall be the Lord of Winterfell. I will not have him raised beside a bastard.”

Howland froze. “My son has done nothing. He deserves a father and a mother.”

“Your son,” Catelyn hissed. “Is a child born from wickedness. I refuse to raise them together—not when I know that every time my back is turned is an opportunity for him to kill my child in cold blood.”

“And what makes you think that is the desire of my child? My son is not even born into this world, yet. He has performed no crimes, and yet you would seek to punish him.”

“I know that my son is the only thing keeping your child from legitimacy, and without him, your spawn has a claim to Winterfell. I will not have his position usurp.”

Howland forced the Lady Tully against the wall. She wanted to scream but she knew the metal pressed against her thigh was a knife. “I will remind you, Lady Stark, that I was married to Ned first. I am the one who loves him. If anybody is usurping someone’s place, it is not me.”

“I do not know what values they teach your people in the Neck,” Lady Stark hissed. “But I know what I see in front of me. You were not married. You slept with my husband, and I will be damned if my son becomes sullied by your stain.”

Howland let go of her. “It is not up to you to decide.” He touched his stomach. “I will not have my son raised by your hatred. I will not allow you to poison your children against mine. I will give you a choice. I am willing to rescind my promise from your wedding day in my appreciation of your son, but I will not stand for the insult against my own. Be civil, and I will allow you peace. Be cruel, and you will have your nights filled with terrors.”

Catelyn will not bow to a bog devil, or dirty herself with mud whores. “Leave.”

Howland turned his heels, and swore vengeance. They would reach the Neck after this, and there, he would make Catelyn suffer for all the insults she bore against his child. When Ned saw him again that night, he refused his place in bed. He said he wanted to pray. Ned asked what was wrong, and Howland hissed at him to talk to his wife.

Ned Stark entered Catelyn Tully’s chambers with great reluctance. He was about to apologize until he remembered that she was not a Tully any longer. Catelyn was surprised but welcomed him regardless. She asked if he intended to spend the night. He refused, and felt guilty when her face fell.

“Did you say something to Lord Howland?”

Catelyn stiffened. Ned frowned when he saw the response. “If this is about my child, then I think it is something we should discuss with each other.”

Catelyn pursed her lips but remembered what her mother told her about being a lady. A lady does not show anger, and if she is upset by an outcome, she must act in a way befitting her station. “Of course my lord. I was simply concerned about the wellbeing of my son.” Catelyn smiled. “I was discussing with Lord Reed about your plans towards your bas—your natural born child.”

“My plans?”

“Yes, before Lord Reed stormed off, I was about to suggest holdfasts and houses we could foster him off at. Dorne is quite accommodating to his kind. Or maybe a Northern house, like—”

“My son will be staying with me.”

Catelyn’s smile fell. “I beg your pardon?”  
“Lord Reed and I will raise our child together, alongside our son. They will be raised as brothers.”

Catelyn’s throat gained a lump as she struggled to formulate the words. “B-but, what about our child?”

“He is an alpha and my oldest child. He would heir regardless of how many children I sired with you or with Howland.”

“But what if your child intends to hurt him?” Catelyn asked before she could stop herself.

Ned’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“If your child is an alpha, then Robb is an obstacle in their way.”

“If they are raised as brothers, no such thing shall happen.” Ned denied the notion vehemently. “Or would you have us send away all of our sons thereon after?”

“That is different!” Catelyn protested. “His child is a bastard—!”

“He is my son!” Ned shouted back.

They both were taken back by the declaration, and for the longest time, neither of them said anything. Finally, Ned, in his frustration, bid his lady adieu. “I will not argue on this matter. I will advise you to hold your tongue in the future.”

Within the next couple of days, a wedding was procured for Lysa and Lord Arryn. Afterward, Catelyn and her ladies headed to the North, and her sister to the Vale. On the road to Winterfell, Catleyn attempted to strike a conversation with Lord Stark. He was cooperative towards her advances but trod lightly on more serioud issues. He avoided all talks of children except if it was a request to hold Robb. She watched in horror as he discussed matters of crops and livestock with Howland, who, as Catelyn jealously noted, was more knowledgeable about such concerns. 

“Howland Reed is the heir to the House Reed. His father is rumored to be dying, and has already allowed the reigns of rule onto his son and daughter. In a way, he is also a liege lord.”

“How?” Catelyn asked as they settled onto their campsite. “Does he not answer to Lord Stark?”

“The Neck is an odd region. House Reed is the main housr in there, but there are also minor houses as well that serve under them.”

“Like vassals?”

“Yes. Lord Stark was never supposed to rule Winterfell. It is only natural that he sought advice from a more experience leader,” the septa soothed her. Catelyn understood, but could not help the bitterness that consumed her thoughts. Lord Stark wanted advice, but he did not need to seek it from the mother of his bastard. She left her tent to have meals with her handmaidens. She was able to bring several third and second daughters of minor lords with her to the North and was promised a few Manderly and Wells girls to assist her when she arrived. From the other side, she watched her husband eat with his whore.

“Lady Stark, are you alright?”

Catleyn did not think she was. She felt her head heat with the uncontrollable rage, and felt compelled by the Gods to speak with her husband. She stood up and marched towards him. She thought about what she would yell, what she could say to humiliate him as he did her. But as soon as she reached his table, she found herself falling onto the ground. If she was conscious, she would have appreciated the concern found in her husband’s voice.

“War has made you cruel, brother,” Jyana warned.

Their party reached the Neck that day, and Howland offered the men a place at Greywater Watch. Lady Stark was only just recovering from her spontaneous fever, but while she lived, she did not escape unscathed. Her body could not produce milk for her child. Howland kindly offered to take the place of wet nurse, as there were none in their party. He tried to look horrified when the woman lunge at him but could not, and settled for turning his face to hide his grin. Ned Stark held his wife off from attacking again, and Howland was given the baby boy. His hair was dark, and his once stocky features were turning into a thin, Stark look. 

“Love made me cruel,” Howland retorted. “War made it easy to act.”

He asked Jyana if she prepared a meal for their guests as ordered. Jyana complied to the requests and mentioned that there were several crannogmen eager to see the other Northerners up close. Howland thanked her and went on to find Ned. Before he left, Jyana warned him that their father’s time was nearly up, and their mother intended to follow him.

“You will be Lord Reed soon.”

Howland scoffed. “What does that even mean? When King Rickard Stark slew the last Marsh King and took his daughter as his wife, he asked the remaining members of the family to bend the knee and swear our house’s allegiance to him.  He asked for our sigil and words, and out of amusement, our princess pointed to the resting lizard and rehashed a phrase she heard from a story. From then on, when some wanted to leave and marry Northern noblemen, we came up with names and gave them a title that did not exist to smooth things along. And who could argue? What maester would come to search for histories written on leaves? I remember every life that has been born on these lands since the day I took my first breath. We are all equals here.” 

Jyana shook her head. She told him to find his lover, for their time together was short.

Howland found Ned sitting beside the weirwood tree where they married. He held Ice, his family’s ancestral sword which was bigger than Howland’s own body and made of Valyrian steel. He was surprised the sword did not sink them into the swamps, and was more impressed that he could find this tree again.

“Someone led me here,” Ned explained. “I saw a shadow and I followed.”

Howland sighed. “You should not be following shadows in these parts. Not all my people are kind to outsiders.”

“This one was.”

Howland kissed his knuckles. “Then, I am grateful.” He leaned forward to touch the steel. “You only used this in one battle, the one where Rhaegar Targaryen met his end.”

“The Battle of the Trident,” Ned explained.

“Deaths are easier to remember than locations,” Howland said softly. “What are you thinking about?”

Ned gripped the handle of the sword. “Taxes.”

“…Taxes?”

  
Ned sighed. “We have just finished a war and I am to man the north and be the Lord of Winterfell. I need to secure our rations for the short winter is coming, we need to prepare funds for maesters, and we need to maintain our roads…” Ned sounded frustrated. “I have all these lives in my hand and I’ve already let so many slip away.” Howland knew he was thinking of Lord Dustin and Lord Cassel and all the other men who have fallen at his side at the Tower of Joy. Howland leaned on his shoulder and advised him to give them some time to recuperate, but not enough time so they could revolt and refuse.

“What if they argue?”

“If they argue, remind them that winter is coming, and for all houses, especially the poorer ones, will be extremely grateful for Winterfell’s support.” Howland continued to advise him on budgeting and Ned listened with intent. When they were finished, Ned kissed Howland and held him in his arms.

“I wish it was just you and me at the Winterfell.”

Howland laughed. “You wish it wasn’t Winterfell at all.”

Ned agreed. “Am I selfish? For wanting to keep you by my side while I have a wife.”

Howland sunk his head into Ned’s neck and pressed his belly within Ned’s protection. “It will not be forever,” Howland confessed. “I have my own people to worry for.”

“I want you by my side.”

Howland frowned. He thought of the red-haired whore who took away his husband, who intended to turn his child into a villain and separate him from his brother and father. Howland asked Ned if he would bed him again tonight, in the comforts of Howland’s own room. Ned said he would be honored.

They did not make love in front of the weirwood again. Together, they entered Greywater Watch where the feast was already beginning to start. It was not long before the men entered and Jyana and Howland were expected to greet them. The dishes were made to look as appetizing as possible, and perhaps it was their hunger from eating gruel and shit on their journey, that the crustaceans and snakes looked quite appetizing. They never seen it cooked in such a manner before, and with the odd music, filled with drums and bells and was joyous and spontaneous, accompanying them, they feasted. Ned kept Howland by his side at all times, and all but ignored the glare coming from his wife.

Ned rarely smiled, but there was mirth in his eyes when he watched his men drool over the sordid dress of the crannogmen. Howland had asked his people if they were willing to serve at the banquet. A plentiful number of omegas volunteered. As of now, the men could barely keep their hands off of them. Howland explained that he asked for volunteers because he knew that their intentions were in line with Ned’s men.

In the midst of the banquet, Howland talked to two Fenn omegas, twin boys, who were younger than Howland and wickedly beautiful. They said something to Howland in the inhuman language Ned has often heard Howland use in prayer or in conversations with his family. Howland laughed. He told them something back and directed their attention back to Lord Umber.

Ned asked what they wanted.

Howland grinned and whispered in his ear. “They wanted to know if Lord Umber was giant, for he is so much bigger than the rest of you.”

“What did you tell them?”

Howland giggled, the generous gift of wine made him light-headed. He drifted his hand onto the lining of Ned’s cock and opened his trousers. He took out his cock and massaged it until he was hard and dripping. He loved how heavy it was in his hand. Ned growled.

“I told them to ask him. He would be happy to show them how big he was.”

As if on cue, Lord Umber laughed and the sound alerted the entire room. He dragged both of the boys into his lap where they squirmed and squealed. Lord Umber kept his large hands on their asses, and spanked them on their bare flesh when they whimpered.  He whispered something in each of their ears which made their bodies flush. One of the twins said something to his brother, and they shared a look of agreement. The other, older twin, whispered in the Greatjon’s ear and what he said caused Lord Umber to lift the both of them up and escort them out of the hall. Their bodies were so small that they could not cover the swollen knot pressing against Lord Umber’s pants. The men cheered at the sight. Even Ned smirked.

When the hall began to sink into further the debauchery, the ladies of the South were escorted to their rooms. Howland asked Ned to follow him to his, and the rest of the men enjoyed their serving crannogmen to their heart’s content.

Near the end of Howland’s pregnancy, he took a liking to be on top of Ned. Ned’s favorite position was when Howland had his back turn and he could get a clear view of Howland’s fat and luscious ass bouncing on top of his cock. The sight of Howland’s hole wrapped around his engorged cock was obscene. Howland slammed his body onto Ned’s member with enough force to make his butt bounce and the sound of Ned’s balls slapping against Howland’s body made him want to cum several times over. He loved seeing the round pucker pop when a knot was forced out of him and then slammed back inside.

When they were finished, they would spoon under the covers of Howland’s thin sheets. Howland would encourage Ned to touch his stomach during this time, in case their child wanted to talk to him. Ned complied, and Howland’s heart leaped with joy when his son made a kick.  

They left Greywater Watch the afternoon after the feast. Howland wanted to stay an extra day to help with the cleaning. He also wanted to gossip amongst his helpers. The Fenn boys told everyone about the giant they bedded.

“His knot was the size of my head,” one boy bragged. The other one asked Howland what he planned on naming his child. “I like the name Lonnel,” he suggested. He touched his stomach in anticipation of the seed growing in there.

Howland warned him not to get his hopes up. “Lord Stark and I bedded many times, and I was not with child until my first heat together.”

The older twin turned his nose up at the notion. “We are pregnant. I’m sure of it.”

One of the Boggs girls whined. “I want a child. Do you think Lord Umber would give me one? Of course, if the Mormont did not give me one already…”

“I want a child to hunt with,” another one proclaimed.

Howland laughed. “Ask your mothers if it is alright. But first, help clean this mess. There will be no more beddings until then.” They all looked at each other, and with eyes of mischief, cheerfully cleaned the halls spick and span before dashing off to find the fighting alphas. Howland watched with some amusement at how often Lord Umber was propositioned. The man left no virgins in his wake.

When they readied their horses to leave, Lord Umber met with Howland to give his appreciation to his house. “I can’t say I’ve ever felt hospitality like that of the Neck, Lord Reed. Your creepers were…another experience entirely.”

Howland had long stop denying the title. “Thank you, Lord Umber. I trust my people were quite welcoming?”

“The best I’ve ever had,” Lord Umber boasted. 

Howland tried not to laugh. He bid his people his farewells and kissed his sister goodbye. Jyana, in her solemnness, told him that when he came home, their father shall take his leave from this world. “Do your best to take your time.” She waited a moment. “He would like to see his grandson before he goes, as will mother.”

“Does she still plan to leave with him?”

“Yes,” Jyana declared sadly. “Their love is one for an unsung ballad.”

Howland hugged her tighter. “Take care of them for me.”

Jyana promised to and wish her brother and her nephew good luck.

They needed it. Howland rode with Ned the entire journey. He was by Ned Stark’s side when he delivered Lord Dustin’s corpse to his widow, and watched her scream her grievances at him, as if it were his sword that plunged into her husband’s chest. Ned denied no accusation, and for this Howland was resentful for the Lady Dustin. He knew Ned would order his silence if he came to his defense, and so, he kept quiet with a clenching fist. They left to deliver more bodies, and when they reached House Glover, Ned requested they use his weirwood tree. He and the other Northerners paid their respect to the Old Gods. Ned and Howland remained. He asked Howland if he could teach him the True Tongue. Howland tried not to be surprised when Ned suggested it.

“How long have you know?”

“Since our wedding,” Ned admitted. “Although I thought I had grown mad when I heard the sounds come from your mouth and the mouths of your people.”

“My mother still speaks of the war,” Howland explained. “It broke her heart when I told her I was to fight the Andals by your side. The Invasion killed so many of her kind; she thought I would not survive.” He did, and now her heart was broken for an entirely different reason.

Ned nodded. He made his request again. Howland hated to refuse him, but this was a request he could not comply with. “You do not possess our blood. No human can speak the True Tongue.”

Ned sighed in disappointment. Howland made another suggestion. “I can teach you the Old Tongue.”

Ned raised an eyebrow.

“My people have many secrets,” Howland reminded. “Did I not warn you?”

Ned smiled softly. He asked Howland for patience in teaching him. Their lesson was brief but meaningful. In spite of Ned’s claim that he was poor in academics, he learned the words easily when he realized they were mostly sounds of phrases he already knew. They retreated to the camps shortly after their lesson. There, Howland entered the ladies tents, where they watched him with great distaste. Catelyn was with her septa and Robb. Robb was crying. Catelyn held her son close to her, and from the sight of her open robes, she had been trying to get him to drink from her again. She always tried when she was alone, and she was alone often. Robb cried louder. He was hungry and was frustrated by his mother’s lack of milk. Howland was quick to offer up his breasts. He undid the robe that did nothing to cover his obvious belly.

Catelyn pulled away. “No,” she whispered through her tears.

Howland only walked closer. He tried to sound soothing but the irritation was unmistakable. “Your son is hungry. He needs to eat or he will starve.”

“No,” Catelyn begged. “There are wet nurses here. I can—”

“You can what? Keep changing his wet nurse whenever we pass by a new house? He has already drunk my milk. He knows my scent. He is hungry now. Give him to me.”

“No,” Catelyn refused. “I won’t let you take my son. I won’t let you. You’ve taken everything from me—!”

Howland ripped Robb from his mother’s arms, and made her fall to her knees. The baby screamed at the rough treatment. The septa ordered him to give him back or she shall call for Lord Stark. “And tell him what? That your lady was willing to let her son starve to satisfy her own pride? Good, make the call.”

The septa remained there. Catelyn denied the notion. “I will not let my child fall to the whims of some bog devil, a mud whore and swamp witch. You have my husband. Is that enough for you? Will you curse all my children?”

Howland waited for Robb to calm down before he said anything. He sat on Catelyn’s bed and waited for Robb to clasp onto his teat. When Robb began to eagerly suckle, Howland looked at the new Lady Stark. “I stole nothing from you. Your betrothed took away my future when he died and left your husband the heir of Winterfell. Your father took away my name when he demanded Ned honor his father’s promise to make you Lady Stark. But you? You took away my heart. Is it not fair that I rip apart yours?”

When Robb finished feeding, he giggled with such loveliness, and Howland forgot the anger he was holding. Howland touched Robb’s cheek and handed him back to his mother, who reached out to him with the passion of a starving woman. The boy yawned and went to sleep.

Howland reminded Catelyn that their children were siblings, and they should tolerate each other for their sakes. He was at the entrance of the tent, when Catelyn declared that she could tolerate the bastard, but he would never be her son’s brother.

Howland turned to look at the woman, her red hair lost its shine in misery, and her blue eyes were dull with fright. Despite that, she was beautiful. In another life, Ned would have loved her. That alone inspired hatred within Howland.

“That, my lady, will be your downfall.”        

When they arrived to Winterfell, the Umbers and those north of Winterfell left to bury their dead. They’ve been away too long, and at that point, they would spare no more days to rest. Winterfell welcomed Ned’s party with great fanfare, and though Ned ached to spend a night in his bed, he did his duty to his men. He delivered the bodies to every family who lost a man in the war and gave his condolences. He offered them aid in their times of need, and through their sorrows, they were still grateful for Ned’s presence. Lady Stark and her ladies were escorted to their rooms. No one knew what to do with Howland, but they knew by his presence who the father of his child was.  They hid their shock well, and instead focused on Robb. They praised Lady Stark for giving birth to a healthy child, and on her first try no less. She must truly be blessed. Lady Stark was relieved by their good graces. She thought they would be apprehensive towards a Southern woman.

She showed off her child to Old Nan, who was unimpressed when she saw Lady Stark but adored a child in the home. She picked him up and mentioned that, “He has the Stark look. That’s good.”

Lady Stark tried not to shudder. Instead, she smiled and said she wished to retire bed. The journey was long and tedious and she deserved a good day’s rest. Old Nan agreed, but before Lady Stark was out of sight, Old Nan called for Lord Benjen to meet his nephew. Catelyn stilled. She watched the youngest Stark come out of the shadows he’d been hiding in, and went forth to see his kin. Benjen was a combination of Ned and Brandon. He was certainty more eye catching than her husband, but there’s a coldness within him, a thirst for solemnity that encouraged people to avoid him. Benjen did not greet Catleyn with any degree of warmth. He did not greet her at all.

“He looks like my brother,” Benjen commented. His manner was that an aging lord; Catelyn could not tell he was only fourteen. Benjen poked Robb’s chubby cheeks and almost smiled when the boy giggled. He reached for his uncle, but Benjen denied him. “I’m not meant to hold children.”

“Never say never,” Howland chided. He went forth to greet Howland, and suddenly, there was a child in place of a Lord. “I will demand you hold my son.” They embraced like brothers.

“Thank you, for keeping my brother safe.”

“We should be thanking you,” Howland denied. “My sister told me that you held down the North with the vigor of your father.”

“I hope to never have to again.”

“I hope so as well,” Howland agreed. Benjen casted a glance downwards, and suddenly there was a smile, and a genuine laughter at the sight.

“Is that…?”

“Yes,” Howland exclaimed. He was so proud. Benjen chuckled and made a comment about his brother vitality.

“Brother came into this world with only a name, and he will leave a High Lord and children in every room. The Gods loves to play jokes on us.”

“I do love to laugh,” Howland agreed. “Come. Show me to my room, I want to tell you about my travels. And you can tell me about the exciting affairs of manning the North. I heard we had a very handsome night brother come petition you for men…”

“How do you hear these things?”

Howland wriggled his eyebrows. “I have my ways.”

Benjen laughed. “Well, his name is Yoren and his Commander is Lord Mormont…was Lord Mormont…” He wrapped his hand around Howland’s waist, and led him to a bedroom. Maester Luwin stopped him from going further.

“Should you not greet Lady Stark? She must surely be troubled by her new surroundings. It is the duty of a good brother to make her feel welcomed…

Benjen turned around and glared. “That woman is not Lady Stark.”

Catelyn was taken back. She turned to the maester, who only winced at the declaration. “Benjen…” he warned.

“My mother was Lady Stark. This woman used a war and the deaths of thousands of man to secure a title. She’s nothing more than a Southern whore.”

“Benjen Stark!” Maester Luwin was furious. Even Old Nan looked aghast, and she carried no love for the natural born Tully. “You will apologize to Lady Stark, the Lady of Winterfell and your good sister this instant!”

Howland turned to Benjen and whispered something in his ear. Whatever it was, Benjen does not listen. He walked forward towards Catelyn and asked her, “If I pay someone to bed me with gold, that would make them a whore. If I pay someone to bed with titles and land, what does that make them?”

Catelyn was speechless.

“An expensive whore.”

Benjen took Howland away. He ignored everyone but the crannogman in front of him and expressed all his appreciation towards the child growing in Howland’s belly. They retreated to Benjen’s rooms, and in spite of the warnings he was given to keep omegas out of his presence, he practically laid out his best furs for his friend. Together, Benjen kept Howland company while Ned was gone. Howland thanked him and said that if there was any other alpha in the world he would rather be with besides Ned, it would be Benjen.

Benjen felt the same for Howland, and they talked for ages. Benjen was always such a boy around his siblings, and to him, Howland was bounded by god. He fell asleep on Howland’s stomach, listening to his nephew kick. Ned found them embraced by furs and wool blankets. He entered the room silently, and sat down with equal tenderness.

“I was asked to speak with him.”

“You were asked to scold him,” Howland corrected.

“I heard he said some hateful things to Lady Stark.”

“He did,” Howland admitted. “But he said them out of love for me. If you must punish him Ned, I asked to take his penalty.”

Ned scoffed. “You know I would never lay a hand on you.”

“You laid them on me plenty of times,” Howland teased. He stroked his good brother’s hair. “He missed you,” Howland told him. “He said he hated how lonely the castle was. When the Night Brothers came, asking for aid, he was so grateful, he let them stay several nights.”

“I’m sure that’s the only reason he let them stay: loneliness.”

Howland smiled. “He wants to protect the realm. He’s been waiting all this time for you to come home. You should reward him.”

“Aye…” Ned agreed. “But he’s too young. Let him wait a few years. He’ll know for sure then.”

“What is he waiting for? We left him alone to lead one of the greatest regions in the world, but he cannot cut a man in half?”

Ned frowned. “My brother has not even had a rut yet. In the eyes of gods, he is still a child.”

Howland stayed silent. Then he announced that Benjen had a rut.

“What?”

“He told me he had his first rut when you were gone. The maester will tell you in due time, so please do not confront him until he is ready.” Howland paused. “Is he an adult now?”

“Who…”

“That’s not important. He remained locked away from plain sight, and the only Stark bastard is the one in my belly.”

Ned shook his head. “I can’t, Howland. Not now, maybe…a year or two. I do not want to lose anymore brothers and sisters.”

Howland agreed to drop the issue _for now_. He asked Ned to lie with him and they shall warm the wolf pup together. Lord Stark fulfilled the request, and when Benjen Stark woke up, he was beside the two people he had left in the world. He did not want to lose this.

Afterwards, they had dinner. Everyone was well rested but the air was full of tension and strife. Ned sat beside Catelyn out of duty. The serving girls thought Howland would take his left, only to be surprised when he sat across from him. Benjen took the seat at Howland’s left, an undignified and submissive position that kept Howland’s right open. The youngest Stark made no attempt to show where his loyalties laid. 

The position forced Ned to address what happened earlier. “Benjen, I was told by Maester Luwin today that your behavior with my wife today was unacceptable. You called her names.”

Benjen tightened the grip on his knife. He opened his mouth to speak. Howland interrupted. “Is this the right time to discuss such matters? This is the first meal the Stark brothers are having together since the war. Should we not be happy?”

Ned’s eyebrows furrowed. “Be that as it may, I cannot let an insult to my lady wife go unforgiven.”

“I did not insult her,” Benjen snapped. “I merely asked her to defend her position.”

“I should not have to,” Catelyn snapped. She was past irritated by her good brother’s lack of respect. “My father is Holster Tully, one of the greatest lords in Westeros. I gave birth to Robert Stark, heir to Winterfell—”

“So you have a father with a known name and a son that shall take my brother’s. What about you? What good is your hot Southern blood in the cold Northern winters?”

Catelyn was speechless.

Benjen Stark stood up. “Howland Reed saved my brother’s life countless times in warfare. His people defended the North from southern invaders. He is my brother’s true wife.”

“Benjen,” Ned warned.

“My lord,” Benjen retorted. “I asked to take my leave. Howland, will you join me?”

Howland and Ned shared a look, before Howland stood up. “Yes, Benjen.”

“You cannot let him speak to me like that!” Catelyn proclaimed.

Ned said nothing. He told his wife to finish her meal. She asked what of Benjen’s punishment, and Lord Stark replied that he can do nothing to curb his little brother’s attitude. If Catelyn wanted the respect of Lady Stark, she must earn it by her own merit. “I am your wife,” she defended. “They should respect me by the authority of our marriage!”

“The ones who find our marriage valid will do so.”

The words sent a chill down her spine. “And what of the ones who don’t?”

Ned Stark said nothing. He said he wished for some time alone, for they both needed to collect their thoughts. The journey made him more wearied then he expected. Catelyn was appalled by his apathy. She was at the same place she was a year ago, when they first married. “There is not a moment since our wedding day that I did not wish you died in Brandon’s place.”

Ned Stark looked at her, and he did not look insulted or sad. He agreed. “I wish he was your husband as well.” And then he left her, abandoned her to face a dining room alone.  
Catelyn stabbed her meat ferociously. A drop of water fell into her wine glass and she realized it was coming from her eyes. She started sobbing. She hated it. She wished she was in her sister’s place, married to an old man because at least he would respect her for the lady she was, and she would be surrounded by the Southern warmth of her people and not this arctic tundra. She wished she chose the king and his proclivities, because at least he would care nothing for his deviances and let her experience the joys of being queen. Her sobs were heard down the hall. “I wish I was dead!” she shouted.

Howland smiled when he heard the declaration. Benjen caught it out of the corner of his eye. “Why are you smirking?”

“Because I finally got what I needed.”

“What?”

“True despair.”

Howland left him to seek out a weirwood. He stripped from his robes until he was fully nude, and allowed the moonlight peering from the sky to shine of his pregnant body. The upcoming winter air did nothing to him.  He dipped into the black pool until he was fully immersed by the spring. When he sang his song, the birds chimed in with their harmonious chirping and the cicadas cried from their graves and the frogs croak their baritones of worship. He left the spring and knelt.  He asked the Old Gods to give him an omega child to provide him with vengeance.

The gods are kind.

Catelyn Stark was not the same after that dinner. Winterfell was divided into three. There were the people who respected Catelyn’s claim either out of respect towards Westerosi customs or out of their distastes towards the crannogmen. Ser Rodrik remained her loyalist, and denied any hushed whisper or declaration otherwise. People like Benjen, or Old Nan, considered Howland to be Ned’s rightful wife. He was a northerner, Old Nan defended, a swamp dweller was better than any Southerner princess. And then there was Ned, who was consumed by his duties as Lord of Winterfell, and turned a deaf ear to gossip. His decision was supported by Maester Luwin.

Ned was too busy to bed either of them, and Howland was on the verge of bursting. Pregnancy agreed with him in a way it argued with Catelyn. Without the hundreds of soldiers separating them, Catelyn was forced to watch Howland parade around with a full belly, grinning and telling jokes with the servants. He helped them with their duties, and when they refused, he did so anyways. He told them that in the Neck, there were no servants. They were all citizens of the North, and should behave as equals.  The servants took to him well. They bowed their heads around Catelyn and called her Lady Stark, but when their backs turn, they would go back to Howland tell stories as if they were old friends. There was a time when Catelyn heard them remark on how big Howland had gotten, or how he could eat so much or so little.

“Lord Howland told me he never once fell ill with his child.”

“Oh how envious!” Another girl proclaimed. “I hope he shares he secrets with me one day.”

The implication of his permanence made Catelyn weep. She stopped coming to dinner after a few nights watching Howland and Ned exchanged glances. When she was gone, they freely spoke about the health of their child, what they would name him, who he would he take after. She spent her days in her room, cradling Robb. In a few months, he would be done breastfeeding, and soon, his cries would be for a bottle Catelyn can serve. She devoted all her time to her son. Her beautiful son, her perfect heir, hers, all hers.

Then Robb cried again.

“He is hungry,” Old Nan announced. She sat on her wooden chair with needles in her hand. Catelyn thought she was sleeping. She held onto her son a little longer and then call for a servant to take her son to Howland. She stayed in the nursery with Old Nan until they brought him back. She no longer fought anymore. She was too weak. Old Nan’s eyes narrowed as Catelyn remained in her seat the entire time. She waited for her son to come back to her.

Two months after their arrival in Winterfell, Howland walked a living dream to the weirwood and gave birth there. A serving girl found him, strolling barefooted in the courtyard. She alerted the maester and Old Nan, and they followed the trail of water to the weirwood tree. They tried to take him indoors and he refused. Where the pregnancy was light as spring, the birthing was a horror. It lasted until the sun rose with Howland’s agonizing breath over each push. Ned arrived at the sound of his fifth scream. He held his hand until the head came out and the legs followed. It was a healthy boy. A healthy omega boy. The first sight the baby had was of the fire in the sun and the ice on the ground. Winter was coming, and the summer would flower after.

“I want to name him Jon, after your foster father.”

Ned agreed easily. He did not suspect the true reason behind the naming, that Howland wanted to see the look on Lord Arryn’s face when the child he tried to kill was given his namesake. He wanted to see the shame and the regret, for his wife will not bear him a healthy son, Howland made sure of it. But Howland will always have his beautiful boy.

Howland demanded Jon sleep in his bedroom, as that was the way of the Neck. Ned did not refuse his request, nor did he refuse the suggestion that Robb and Jon were brothers, and therefore should play as brothers. Old Nan told stories to the both of them, and because they were so young, Robb did not mind hearing a tale a second or third or even fourth time. He laughed when Jon laughed and cried when Jon cried. He held onto Jon when they napped, and would feed at the same time. Lady Stark refused to be present around the bastard, and Robb refused to smile without him. Lady Stark lost her only connection to the world.

Some women drink in their misery, some woman ate, Catelyn Stark starved and fought a war with sleep. She sang southern ballads of knights and princesses and princes. She walked barefooted in the courtyards at night. She slept in her son’s nursery, on the cold wooden floor, when she knew the bastard was safely inside his mother’s bedding. The maester tried to reason with her, but she did nothing. During her madness, she made a prayer wheel. She made a prayer wheel for every night Jon was born and hung them around Robb’s nursery. Maester Luwin feared the worst, and told Ned to act.

Two weeks after, Ned asked Catelyn to come with him somewhere. She agreed like an old dog trained to obey his commands. She was silent throughout the walk, and though her steps dragged like a prisoner, she found herself moved to tears when they reached the destination.

“I had it built for you,” Ned explained. “It is not grand, but I wanted it done quickly. I thought it might make you feel at home.”

A weight was lifted from Catelyn’s heart when she walked on the seven pointed star, and her septa, a lovely woman who had been by her side since she was a child, held her in her arms as they cried together. The septa cried for the rare moment of lunacy found in the child she loved so dearly, and Catelyn cried for the rare show of affection from her husband. It was the happiest she had been since her son was born. She turned around and thanked Ned. She called him Lord Stark and it was filled with gratitude, but the words turned the water in Ned’s veins to ice. The address, the same thing his mother called his father near the end of their marriage, when his father became obsessed with Southern alliances and his mother could no longer stand his presence, shocked him in a way that nothing else could.

Howland was with their son when Ned confronted him. “What did you do to Catelyn?”

Howland laid Jon down next to Robb. They touched each other for their games and curiosities.  “You’ve always been so perceptive, Ned. I’m surprised it took you so long to figure it out.”

“I’ve always had a tendency to turn a blind eye with you.”

Howland took the moment to kiss Ned and pressed their bodies against one another. Since the birth of their child, Maester Luwin warned them against copulation. He said that Howland’s body will need time to recuperate. He pushed his tongue inside Ned, and let his breasts soak Ned’s shirt. They were almost exploding. Ned loved suckling on them in bed. He would refuse ale and wine to save room for Howland’s wet nursing, or his honey cream when he was especially ravenous. “I missed your cock,” Howland told him. “I missed your knot filling up my womb.”

Howland aimed to remove Ned’s pants; Ned stopped him with another warning. “Howland, I’ve seen what you are capable of.”

Howland distanced himself from his lover. “If you are so sure then kill me. That is the punishment for harming one’s liege lord or lady, is it not?”

“You admit to it.”

“I admit to nothing. You know what I am capable of, don’t you?” Howland mocked.

“I know that you love me,” Ned reminded him. “I know that you will comply to my wishes.”

Howland asked what he wished for.

“Stop this, stop this curse you placed on Catelyn.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Ned asked. He found himself getting more frustrated by the second. He wanted this madness to end. He wanted Catelyn sane, and he wanted Howland by his side.

“I can’t,” Howland repeated. “It is out of my control.” He paused. “Only you can.”

Before Ned can questioned him, Howland took his child from Robb’s side and left. Ned asked if he was going to the weirwood tress and he responded that he would be in his rooms.

“You need to make a decision, Ned.”

After praying with the septa, Catelyn smiled and asked her septa if she would take care of her child. She wished to have some sleep in her bedroom. The septa gleefully agreed and watched as Lady Stark retired for the day. After getting an hour’s rest, Lady Stark woke up. She found a window, breathed in the cool air and felt the sunlight on her skin. She was told that this was the first sensation the boy had when he was born. She was envious of him. She climbed out of the window and leapt for her death.

 “Make love to me in front of a weirwood tree

Where my fathers and brothers and sisters can see

And my mother shall weep for my body and soul

For my dowry is a heart and my blood in a bowl

May the gods of skies give us their blessing

And the spirits below hand me my dressing

And once the dagger you wield enters our nest

Let your arms surround me and put us to rest

When my flesh shall melt and turn the swamp into foam

Bury my bones beneath the crannog I call my home”

Howland’s eyes glowed when he sang. He saw the body hit the floor before anyone else, and did nothing but feed his son. “Do you remember your promise?” Howland asked. There was no one in the room.

When Catelyn woke up, she saw not the shadows or faded colors or dark lights, but a room. She saw the world clearly, as if, for the last few weeks, her mind had been under a haze. The septa rushed to her side and cried tears of joy. Catelyn held her septa’s hand and found tears running down her cheeks. She held onto the woman who loved her so much, who had been a second mother to her and apologized. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

The septa did not accept her apologies. “Do not ever do that to me again, you stupid girl.” And they held each and cried some more. In the midst of their sobs, someone knocked on Catelyn’s door.

“May I come in?” Lord Stark asked. And though the septa glared at him, she could do nothing when he entered. Since their marriage, Catelyn had never actually looked at her husband. She saw him as the Lord of Winterfell, or Brandon’s brother. She did not see a man. Today, she saw him as he was: Eddard Stark, who everyone called Ned. She saw him as a soldier, a loving father, and loyal friend. He was a good husband.

But he was not her husband.

“I almost left our son without a mother,” Catleyn confessed. “Can you forgive me, my lord?”

“Yes,” Ned agreed. “Can you forgive me for how I’ve wronged you?”

“Yes.” Though Catelyn would never forget.

They stayed like that in silence. Catelyn asked if he would hold her, and Ned complied. They laid in bed, and it was not a comfortable experience but it was necessary. Catelyn confessed that she married him for a title. She revealed that she knew he had a lover but she thought it didn’t matter—he didn’t matter. “I found out he was a crannogman on the day we were married. That only encouraged me. I thought I could convince you to throw him away. I was wrong. Now I’ve made us all miserable.” Both of them knew the statement to be true, and like Catelyn, Ned will never forgive her for this. He knew that if Catelyn had not asked her father, if she just heeded Howland’s words, then Ned and Howland could have been happy. Yet, Ned was not a bitter man, and the past was in the past. Ned did not come to salt her wounds.

When she was finished, he made his own confessions. He said he wanted both of them; he wanted to complete his duty and have his love, but he knew it was not fair either of them. 

“I will never love you, Lady Stark. Perhaps, in another life, I could have. But I will respect you, and care for our children.”

It was better than what most people received, and it was more than Catelyn deserved. Catelyn agreed. She asked Ned to spend the night, and he did. They did not make love; it would be years before they did again, but she would forever remember today as her first day as Lady Stark.

When Ned visited Howland in the hot springs, he was asked, “If I were to fling myself off the highest tower of Wintefell, would I win your love again?”

“You will always have my love, Howland.”

“And you will always choose duty over me, Lord Stark.”

“Howland…”

“Don’t,” Howland dismissed. His anger finished last night when he tussled and turned in an empty bed, and could not stop the tears of misery falling from his eyes. “I knew the moment you did not return to my bed; you had made your decision.” Tears welded up in his eyes and he laughed. “I did not expect the pain to hurt so much.”

Ned tried to hold him, and though Howland wished to reject him, he could not. Instead, he pulled him into the hot springs where they made love as if it were war time again and a great battle was ahead of them. Howland wrapped his arms around Ned and held onto to him. Ned breathed in the scent of Howland, the smell of mud that carried the seeds of flowers and trees, freshwater and magic, if there was ever a description for the smell of magic, it would Howland. He bit Howland’s breasts and marked him so that no other man would want him, and Howland did the same. He ruined his cunt on Ned’s swollen cock and reminded Ned that he was the one he loved. “Me,” he whispered. “Love no one else but me.”

Ned promised, and every time he came, he made the same promise. When they finished, Ned waited until Howland was finished dressing to leave. Howland asked why he waited and Ned said he did not want to waste their last moments together.

“Are you asking me to leave Winterfell?”

“No,” Ned denied. “Because you never planned on staying.”

“Will you take my child away from me?”

“No,” Ned proclaimed, and though it hurt him to not see his son grow, he will sacrifice much more for his happiness. “He will prosper more in the Neck than he will here, away from the glower of his father’s distant wife and away from the shadow of his trueborn son.”

“Robb would have loved him.”

“I know,” Ned was not pessimistic about the future. “One day, he might still love him.”

Howland clutched onto Ned’s face tenderly. “I want this boy to have a father.”

“I will visit when I can, and I will never fail to send him ravens and my love.”

“I have no ravens.”

“I will give you one.”

Howland felt like crying again. “It is not the same. It will never be the same.”

Ned held him. “I know.”

“Remembered what you promised.” 

Ned swore on the old gods that he will never love another.

When they went upstairs, Howland asked for some time to himself. Ned was reluctant, but Howland promised to leave his bed empty and willing tonight. There was something he must do; marriage alliances needed to made now that he was available. The words broke Ned, but he wished Howland the best.

“I can provide a dowry.”

Howland smiled. “I need no dowry.” 

When they arrived to supper, Howland took his place beside Benjen, and Catelyn sat beside Ned. Catelyn said nothing to Howland, but she no longer looked at him with contempt. She kept her face down, for she knew, in Ned’s presence, he was above her and she was tired of fighting the will of Winterfell. Howland remained cold. He told the table that he will leave for the Neck in three days.

The serving girl almost dropped her pitcher.

Ned wondered if he should be surprised that Howland decided to leave so soon. To everyone’s surprise, Catelyn asked if he would like to borrow a horse. Howland accepted the offer. The transaction was cold, but civil. Catelyn wanted him gone, and no longer cared for appearances.

“We will need several men,” Benjen explained. “To carry my items.”

Ned furrowed his brows. “I did not know you made plans to visit the Neck.”

Howland turned to Benjen. “You did not tell him?”

“I planned to tell him when I left.”

Howland almost hit him.

“Tell me what?”

Benjen stared at the Lord and Lady Stark. Catelyn avoided his gaze, for she never liked him and he never liked her.  

“I am to marry Howland and become a fellow lord of House Reed.”

Catelyn spilled her wine. Ned clenched his fist around his knife. To her credit, Catelyn was not gloating and there were no triumphant grins on her place. Instead, she asked if she could leave. This was a family matter. Her composure was remarkable. She asked the serving girls if they would come with her. They reluctantly followed, for there was gossip in this room. She ordered them again to move faster.

“You never spoke of this. What of your plans for the Night’s Watch?”

 “Plans changed. You wanted me to wait and so I found an alternative. I have had my first rut. I am a man in the eyes of the law.”

“You never cared for marriage.”

“I care for Howland. I want to raise my nephew.”

Ned stared at Howland who looked away. He looked into his brother’s eyes and matched his resilience with a grimace. “You have my blessing.”

Perhaps Benjen wanted a fight, because he did not stop there. Despite Howland’s protest, he took Howland by the hand and asked to be married before they left. “Maester Luwin can send the ravens.” The whole thing could be resolved in seconds.

Ned was accommodating. His eyes were focused on Howland whose face betrayed nothing. Ned agreed, and Howland closed his eyes as if he were awaiting an execution by sword. When Ned left the table, Howland let out a sigh of pain. Benjen apologized to him, and Howland forgave him for Benjen was his friend and did what he did out of kindness. “Apologize to your brother,” he told Benjen.

Benjen asked why.

“Because he is suffering as much as I am.”

Benjen agreed, and when he saw his brother’s face drop, he realized the cruelty he inflicted on the two men he loved. Regardless of regrets, Benjen and Howland were married the next night. The ceremony was a solemn affair. The bedding followed. The night was awkward and tense, but Benjen wanted to learn how to please him. It was after they realized Benjen held no attraction to Howland, that the two decided to enjoy themselves with fake moans and idle hands and they laughed and they talked about how many children they need before they could stop bedding one another.

“Three, maybe two if they are both alphas.”

“The crannogmen rarely give birth to alphas.”

“Really?” Benjen sounded surprise.

“If I had to make an estimate…maybe one out of seven or eight children? And last year, they were all girls.”

Benjen was amazed. “We might be the happiest sexless marriage in the world.”

Howland laughed so hard he thought his lungs would fall out. 

“Of course, when my brother visits, I’ll allow you to have sex with him.”

Howland hummed. “I’ll grant you the same right when the Night Watch comes to recruit my criminals.”

“They are all alphas.”  
“I know.”

And so, their wedding night was filled with laughter and though Ned was listening outside the door, he was not as miserable as he thought he would be.

On the following day, he hugged his brother goodbye and thanked him. Benjen did not ask for what. “I will treat him well,” he promised.

“I am in your debt.”

Benjen readied his horse and men. Ned searched for the crannogman but was disappointed by the lack of golden hair and sweet scent. For a second, he wondered if Howland changed his mind and was waiting in his room. Benjen did not want him losing himself to false hope.

“I believe he’s in the nursery. Jon wanted to say goodbye to Robb.”

Ned does not dwell in his disappointment. He waited until Howland was finished to say goodbye.

Catelyn tried not to cringe when Robb planted sloppy kisses all over his bastard brother and wailed when the boy was an arm’s length away from him. Howland tried to soothe him. “It is alright, my sweet boy, we will meet again soon. But Jon must leave now. He needs to grow up and be big and strong so he can protect you.”

A long time ago, Catelyn would have questioned the validity of an omega protecting an alpha. She knew, however, that the omega in front of her was a fighter as well as a lover, and had saved Ned’s life on a number of occasions. It was one of three things she was enviable of. The second being Ned’s love, and the first, being his love for Ned’s children. Catelyn could never love a child that was not hers, and certainty not that of her husband and another. She had this fault, and she would never be remedied of it. So she watched in silence of their tearful goodbye, and no matter how much Jon wailed, Howland could not silence him without Robb’s touch. He made soft whimpers and hiccups as Howland held him, and Howland decided it was the best he would receive.

Catelyn could not wish Howland well, but he was still traveling with child, and so she wished him a safe journey instead. Howland smiled and thanked her. She decided, in light of his leaving, she wished him another kindness. “In the future, I know Ned wishes for them to meet again. I hope…I hope Jon protects him as you have for Ned.” Catelyn will always fear the bastard who wants his brother’s title, but if this can be prevented, then she will pray for it by all means.

Howland hummed and rocked his son to sleep. “He will, I guarantee it. Robb will love his brother, as Jon will love him. They are soulmates.” 

Catelyn frowned at the wording. She ignored the feeling of bugs underneath her skin. Civility, she remembered, for the sake of her son and husband, she will be courteous. “Thank you.”

Howland hummed. “I never wanted Winterfell.” 

Catelyn frowned.

“I never wanted to be a Stark, I never wanted to rule the North. You did, but I…I wanted Ned. I only ever wanted Ned.  I wanted to wake up next to the man I love every day for the rest of my life. I wanted to make love to him in the mud, in the swamp, underneath a weirwood tree, I never wanted to stop having his children.” Howland paused. He felt Jon fall asleep in his arms. “But then you came along, and I lost all of that.”

“I’m sorry, Lord Reed”

“No, you are not, Howland smiled. “But you will be.”

“Lord Reed…” Catelyn begged. “I will do anything you want.”

Howland does not listen.

“I’m happy your son is an alpha; he will be the perfect match to my own omega offspring. He will be strong like his father, and loyal and kind. He will want my son as if he were his own limb, and a part in his soul will never be completed without Jon by his side. Your gods condemn incest, don’t they?”

“So do yours,” Catelyn whispered. “So do yours.”

Howland nodded. “Yes, so do mines. But I’m sure they understand that the ends justified the means.”

Howland left the room, and before Catelyn could get down on her knees and beg for mercy, her body became overwhelmed with a vision from the gods and they reign down on her the foreshadowing of a great war, and the sight of two wolves nestled together as the whole world covered in ice and melted to give way to life. There were dead dragons and a land overwhelmed by foliage of roses and thorns and grand beasts roam the earth. Catelyn cried for the men who died and the children lost, and when she saw a child sitting on a bronze throne with green eyes and the Stark look, she knew the pain she caused when she stood on top of the sept and took Ned Stark as a husband.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I fudged the timing of Robert’s Rebellion, and I’m well aware that the Tully sisters had a double wedding. Hand waves.  
> 2\. The second part will focus on Jon/Robb. The third part will focus on Bran/Jojen. This prologue/first part, is the lightest it is going to be. It's only going to get darker from here.  
> 3\. There are no betas in this world.  
> 4\. I tried to keep everyone in character, especially given that the characters are all teenagers. I did not want to make any character good or bad, just human and prone to human vices. I hoped it work.


End file.
